


The Black Dragon

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 59,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years the Blackfyres have tried to take the Iron Throne and failed, but in Daemon IV Blackfyre they have a man they can truly count on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**2 nd Month of 235 A.C. Tyrosh**

**Daemon Blackfyre**

Tyrosh, a glistening cesspool of intrigue, defiance and lust. His family’s home since their exile from Westeros by the line of the Falseborn some forty years ago, after his namesake and grandsire Daemon Blackfyre had died on the Redgrass Field. Daemon, son of Aenys Blackfyre, who himself had been the fifth of Daemon Blackfyre’s seven sons, had known no other home other than Tyrosh and the manse that he and his family spent time in. Born in the 212th year after Aegon the Conqueror’s conquest of Westeros, Daemon had spent his time in Tyrosh and in the army camps of the Golden Company, fighting his first battle at the age of fourteen as a squire to his uncle Maegor. He was knighted at sixteen by Ser Aegor Rivers and from there his life had been that of a soldier. He knew the hatred of the Falseborn as well as any of his other cousins, but he also knew what it was to be lost and scared, and as such he could sympathise with those of his cousins who never wished to fight at all.

Now though, now he was here with his cousin and King Daemon, and his uncle Aegor Rivers otherwise known as Bittersteel, to attend the Archon of Tyrosh’s ball. The Archon was a cousin to Daemon and as such they had been invited here as a courtesy and also so that the Archon could try and convince them to fight alongside him against Lys and Myr those old enemies. Before they had entered the mansion Daemon had some choice words for both his uncle and his king. “Now remember, we are here as guests. There can be no barbs and there can be no japes made at cousin Aerion’s expense. It has to be all high brow conversation. That means no talk of war or women unless prompted do you understand Daemon?” His cousin nodded and Daemon smiled slightly and then they moved in where their cousin Archon Aerion Maegyr greeted them.

“Ah Your Grace, Prince Daemon, Ser Aegor. How nice to see you. So glad that you could come. We have much to offer you in the ways of entertainment and other such pleasures if you would like to follow me.” Aerion said.

Their cousin nattered away for some time about this and that before introducing them to officials from the court of Tyrosh. One man stood out, Varys his name was he spoke with a slippery changeable accent. “Ah how nice to finally meet the famous Blackfyres! Aerion has been speaking about you all nonstop and how you will bring Tyrosh great fame and fortune against Lys and Myr! I trust that the ball has been to your liking and there are not too many extravagances. My wife did have a hand in organising it all, seeing as Aerion is not such a strong hand at it himself!”

Aerion chuckled at that and said. “Oh Varys shush you will embarrass me in front of my guests here. Well I guess I shall leave you all to talk, apart from you, Your Grace, there is someone you just have to meet.”

Daemon nodded and looked back at Varys and then asked him. “So what was it you said you do for Aerion?”

“I did not. But since you have asked, I am the man who manages the finances for the Archon. Making sure that not too much money is spent and that not too much money is hoarded away never to see the light of day. That is why this venture against Lys and Myr is crucial to our coffers, a good war and the taking of some trade rights will do us the world of good.” Varys said.

“And I suppose you believe that the Golden Company fighting in this war, when it would do us just as good to take advantage of the turmoil in Westeros, will do us better? Where is the logic in that my good Varys?” Ser Aegor asks.

Daemon is about to reply when he hears his cousin whisper. “Aerion wants to see you. There is someone he wants you to meet. A lady called Vaella.”

The name draws some form of recognition from Daemon though he does not know where from. He merely nods, turns and walks to where he sees Aerion standing, next to a lady with silvery hair, and the most hauntingly beautiful violet eyes he has ever seen. “Ah cousin, good for you to come. I hope Varys did not bore you overtly much with figures and stats, he is a very good coin counter, but when it comes to conversation he can be quite bland.”

Daemon stares at the woman before him barely registering his cousin’s words. Aerion on noticing this laughs and says. “Begging your pardon my lady, but I seem to have forgotten my manners. Daemon, this is Vaella, Vaella Targaryen. Vaella, my cousin Daemon Blackfyre.”

Daemon expects to see tendrils of hate creep into her eyes at his name, just as he feels some sort of anger at her name. But she does not look angry, she merely smiles and sticks her hand out. “A pleasure to meet you Daemon. I hope you are as courtly as your grandsire was said to be.”

Aerion laughs at that and says. “She has a bite to her this one. Now I shall leave you two talk and discuss whatever it is royals discuss.”

Once Aerion leaves, Daemon looks at Vaella, and once again is taken away by her beauty. “So my lady, or should that be princess? What has brought you to Tyrosh? I would have thought you to be at King’s Landing serving with your cousins and other such people.”

Princess Vaella laughs daintily and says. “I am no princess Ser. I am merely a lady here. My cousin Rhaelle is the princess as is her sister Shaera. I am merely a drunkard’s daughter and the daughter of Kiera, the daughter of your own cousin’s aunt. So in a way we are related twice over. But you asked me a question and so I shall answer it, when my uncle Aegon was named king, my mother and I came back to her home, she thought it would serve us best to do so.”

Daemon nods intrigued. “And what have you made of Tyrosh so far then my lady?”

Vaella thinks for a moment before saying. “It is nice, a nice breath of a fresh air away from King’s Landing and from Lorath and Norvos where we were before we finally came here. I like the quite moments and the peace and serenity that this allows me to have.”

“And what of your mother, where is she? Did she not think to accompany you here?” Daemon asks.

At this Lady Vaella’s face falls somewhat and she says. “My mother died two moons ago my prince. She fell ill from a sickness on the ship that took us here, and she died in my uncle’s arms.”

Daemon curses himself for his blunder, his cousin would not say something of the sort, and so he hastily says. “I am so very sorry for your loss my lady. Would you like to take a walk of the mansion? The ball I have found is getting quite stifling.”

She hesitates for a moment before responding. “Of course.” And so they walk from the hall where the ball is being held, away from the music and the revelry, and walk out into the grounds where it is all quiet and peaceful. Once they are walking towards the fountain, Vaella speaks again. “Have you been here before my prince?”

“Please if I am to call you Vaella, you have to call me Daemon. It is my name after all.” Daemon says. When she smiles and says alright, he goes on. “I have been to the Archon’s mansion four times before this one. Once was when I was but a little boy, my father and mother brought me here to get the blessing of the Septon who was here officiating some ceremony or the other. The other times I have been here, have all been for business.”

“Business?” Vaella asks. “Do you serve in the Golden Company as well then?”

Daemon nods and says. “Aye as commander of the men at arms and their trainer. It is my responsibility to ensure that our men are combat ready. For battle is never too far away. What have you been doing here, since you arrived then my lady?”

“I have been helping my uncle sort through certain things in his estate and managing his household. There are things that men of power just cannot seem to wrap their heads around, that I find astounding.” Vaella says.

Daemon is about to ask her what she means when a guard approaches and says that he is wanted in his cousin’s solar. He sees Vaella back to her companions before kissing her hand and walking to the solar. When he gets there he can tell there has already been an argument, if the way Daemon is drawn taught as a bowstring is any indication. “I was summoned?” Daemon enquires.

Aerion speaks then. “Ah Daemon, thank goodness you are here! Perhaps you can speak some sense into these idiots here. Explain to them the benefits of fighting for me against Lys and Myr and those blasted other sellsword companies.”

Daemon hesitates looking at his king and his great uncle and then says softly. “It does make sense. We are need of the coin, if we hope to invade Westeros anytime soon. We shall need the coin such a venture will bring us, in order to bribe officials and pay for our men and for food.”

His king speaks then his tone clouded in rage. “Aye, but we have just come back from a harrowing victory against the Dothraki. We cannot afford to send the men off to war once more, and then hope that in a few months they will be willing to fight in Westeros.”

Daemon speaks once more. “That fight was three years ago cousin. And still some of the men are new recruits, green boys with no experience of war. We must have them ready for the invasion. Training will only do them so much good. True battle will do them all the better.”

Bittersteel speaks then. “And what if we lose more men then is acceptable for an invasion of Westeros? How do we know that this is not some plot, that the Archon and his family came up with alongside the Targaryens to rid themselves of us and ours?”

Daemon sighs in frustration. “That was over two decades ago uncle! Valarr Targaryen is dead, Daeron Targaryen is dead. His daughter resides here in Tyrosh, here for the taking. We must needs only take what she offers and use it. Daemon I know cannot be wed to someone else for there are the Peakes to think of, but I am free and am willing to court her.”

The king speaks then. “I will not have you wed that simple minded fool. No if there is anyone who must needs be wed, it is Shaera Targaryen, we must find a way to get her here and wed her to myself. The Peakes can be pacified. Now Archon, what promises can you give that you will not betray us?”

Aerion looked truly nervous, as he should be. “I can tell you this, since Kiera, left Westeros the Targaryens have stopped being so friendly towards me and mine. They believe I want you on the throne and as such have stopped giving us trade and supplies. I promise you this, I will do all I can to see you on the throne Daemon. Just help me this once, and the might of Tyrosh will be yours once more.”

Daemon looks at his king, and after a moment the King says one word that will decide their fate for some moons to come. “Very well. We are yours to command Archon.”


	2. The Unlikely

**Fifth Month of 235 A.C King’s Landing**

**King Aegon V Targaryen**

He had been king of Westeros now for two years, ever since the great council had reached its decision following his father’s death. There had been several candidates for the position of ruler of Westeros, his niece Vaella who at twenty one at the time of the council was an adult, his nephew Maegor the boy but a babe and his brother Aemon a maester sworn to serve. As Vaella was a woman and rather simple, the lords had overruled her from the get go, and then attention had turned to Maegor, Aerion’s little boy and fears had been expressed over whether the son would follow the father, his own name was a sign of dangerous times in the past, and so he was passed over and sent to the Vale to live with his grandmother and cousins in the Eyrie. Then Aemon was offered the crown and refused, sighting his oaths. Leaving Aegon himself, he had never thought to become king nor had he wanted to become King and yet here he was sat in the small council chamber discussing things that were making him ache for the days where he could wander around without a care in the world, and for the welcoming embrace of Betha.

Right now he could not allow himself to dwell, he had a small council meeting to focus on. And so he looked at the members gathered round: Hand of the King and an old friend Lord Gerold Lannister, master of laws another old friend Lord Lyonel Baratheon, master of coin yet another old friend Ser Raymun Fossoway, master of ships Lord Desmond Redwyne, master of whispers a cousin Ser Nymor Martell and grand maester Kaeth as well as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Duncan the Tall. He took a sip of water then spoke. “My lords thank you for coming. This winter we are in has lasted for five years now and as such shows no sign of relenting. Whilst the provisions my father and Ser Brynden had set aside have lasted us well, I feel it is time for us to begin preparing for the long winter. Ser Raymun have we the coin to pay for extra food from the Reach or perhaps from Essos?”

Ser Raymun looked down at his reports and said. “There is enough gold in the treasury to ensure that any payment of food from Pentos, Braavos and Lys can be managed. Lord Gawen Tyrell has written to say that he needs to focus on feeding his own people through this winter and as such cannot spare anymore food for the crown to use. We shall need to either look for more food supplies in our own granaries or look towards the three cities previously mentioned.”

Lord Gerold spoke then his tone concerned. “We are already looking at a problem in Braavos with the election of the Sealord. We do not want to get involved with the politics of that region Your Grace. I suggest we do not look to Braavos for food and instead look to Lys and Pentos. They have not been as thoroughly affected by the winter as others have, and are still producing excess amounts of food.”

Aegon considers this for a moment and then says. “Very well, Ser Raymun send word to Pentos and Lys. Tell them that the Iron Throne wishes to open up trading agreements with them. We shall give them what they need if they give us what they need.”

Ser Raymun nods and then asks. “And what of Tyrosh Your Grace?”

“What of it?” Aegon asks. “Last I had heard they were going to throw that Archon out and replace him with a new one. One who did not harbour Blackfyre sympathies.”

Ser Raymun hesitates a moment and then says. “Well we all know that they always produce enough excess food to see through two winters let alone one. Perhaps it might be worth looking towards them to bring in food?”

Aegon shakes his head at that and says. “No. There shall be no trade relations with Tyrosh. Not so long as the Blackfyres remain there, or they continue to harbour Blackfyre sympathies. We have given them every chance, thrown them ever single olive branch we could find. They do not wish to learn, then fine we shall strip them of their trade.”

Ser Raymun nods and then Ser Nymor speaks. “That is perhaps for the best Your Grace. Especially after what I have to tell you.”

Aegon feels dread begin to coil in his stomach at those words and it is with great reluctance that he asks. “What do you mean Nymor? What has happened in Tyrosh that necessitates such a thing?”

Nymor smiles sadly and says. “It appears Princess Vaella has finally removed herself from herself imposed exile in her uncle’s house. She was seen at the Archon’s ball some three moons ago, and was seen speaking with Daemon Blackfyre, not Haegon’s son, but Aenys’ one. And my sources tell me that the boy has begun courting her, most insistently, and it appears he might be winning that particular battle.”

“The only battle with a Targaryen the Blackfyres are ever like to win.” Lyonel says and the others laugh.

Aegon feels his heart pounding though, is this what uncle Aerys was on about before he died? He asks. “What makes you say that Nymor? So the man spoke to Vaella, she is a big girl capable of making her own decisions. She knows where her loyalties lie.”

“It is more than that Your Grace.” Nymor says and Aegon feels his heart begin to drop slightly. “The Princess was seen leaving the mansion in which the Golden Company stay when they are in Tyrosh, smiling and laughing promising to write to Blackfyre. And also they have been seen getting closer and closer together over the months since the ball. It is like that the man is trying to wed her.”

Lord Gerold speaks then and says firmly. “Then we must see to it that Daemon Blackfyre both of them are killed before Bittersteel gets it into his head to do anything stupid.”

Aegon concurs but then also says. “We must learn more about this Daemon Blackfyre. Find out what makes him tick and what makes him angry and sad and happy, and use that against him. That will be your job Nymor. Also did you not say the Golden Company were moving into action against Lys and Myr in the Disputed Lands on behalf of Tyrosh?”

Nymor nods and says. “Indeed they are Your Grace. That was why the Archon threw that ball to convince them of the worthiness of the venture. In fact they should already be out there fighting now if my sources were correct.”

Aegon nods and then says. “Make sure then that your men in the company take out the Blackfyre pretender Bittersteel has crowned. And also make sure to find out more about this Daemon Blackfyre. We must know all we can about him before we act on him. Now what more news is there on the Blackfyres?”

Nymor nods and says. “There is Your Grace. Dalla Blackfyre, Daemon the pretender’s daughter has died and with her, her sons and daughters. Only Calla Blackfyre’s line is left, and that is with Bittersteel. Where they have four daughters and only one son, the son who fights for the company and is like to become a knight of the Kingsguard for the pretender.”

Aegon nods and then asks. “Anything more on the Essosi front?”

Nymor shakes his head and then says. “But there are reports, nothing more than whispers coming in from the Riverlands. It appears as if Lord Otho Bracken has been stirring up trouble for the Tullys and for you, Your Grace. Saying that you mean to take away the privileges of the lords, and give them to the smallfolk. That you are actually a tyrant in disguise. Surprisingly, this message has reached a fair few riverlords and some in the Reach as well. They are flocking to Bracken’s banner and soon it seems there will be war.”

Aegon sighs. “What other reasons are there for this? Has there been any other mutterings amongst those flitting to his banners or not?”

Nymor shakes his head. “No Your Grace. Otho Bracken has so firmly stuck to what he says now, that none dare question his reasoning or logic. And if they do as Lord Charlton did, they disappear. In fact my sources confirm that Lord Bracken means to strike out for Raventree Hall soon enough.”

Aegon is about to ask why the man would do so and then he remembers who his queen is and who Rhae married and he says. “He means to take Rhae hostage and perhaps give her to Daemon Blackfyre doesn’t he?”

Nymor nods and says. “He does indeed Your Grace. He sulks over old wounds and the Blackwoods gaining favour so much. But it has not yet come to armed rebellion, and there is still time for us to do something about it.”

“What do you suggest Ser Nymor?” Lord Gerold asks.

“Poison, assassins. There are numerous ways to deal with such a man and not have questions asked.” Nymor responds.

Aegon nods and says. “Very well, do what you think needs to be done, but get it done quickly. Now onto the issue of betrothals. Lord Gerold, if you would.”

The Hand of the King speaks then. “Thank you, Your Grace. Now then, Prince Duncan who turned fourteen just this month, shall be betrothed to Lady Alyssa Baratheon, with the consent of her father Lord Lyonel Baratheon. Their marriage shall take place when Lady Alyssa Baratheon has come of age.” At this Lord Lyonel nodded. Lord Gerold went on. “Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen has been betrothed to Celia Tully, to wed her when they both come of age. Princess Shaera Targaryen has been betrothed to Ser Luthor Tyrell to wed him when she comes of age, and finally Prince Daeron Targaryen has been betrothed to Lady Olenna Redwyne to wed her when they do both come of age.” Lord Desmond nods in acceptance.

Aegon speaks. “All good and sorted in stone. These betrothals should help create and seal alliances that shall see us through to a golden era of rule. And with luck should help us to enact the reforms necessary to help bring about that golden age.”

There is a general cheer from the council, and then the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Duncan- Dunk as Egg always knows him- speaks his voice soft and slightly nervous sounding. “Your Grace, my lords. Sorry for speaking now, and to bring such a dire subject into this happy council meeting, but there is the issue of two spots to fill on the Kingsguard. Ser Ronald Crakehall, may the seven bless his soul died in his sleep and Ser Willem Tarth as well. And as such there are four candidates I feel would be perhaps best suited for the role. I wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Aegon and the other members of the small council nod. Dunk swallows and speaks. “Well there is Ser Osric Royce, a famed knight and skilled with a sword and lance. He holds true to the vows of the Kingsguard. Then there is one Ser Jonothor Darry a young man by all accounts but one dedicated and strong and true. Then there is Ser Edmond Storm a bastard but a strong one. Finally Ser Errold Stark is there as well, a newly made knight.”

Silence for a moment and the Lyonel says. “I think Ser Edmond and Ser Osric should join the order. Edmond is a true and loyal man I have known him since he was but a boy, and he will do the white proud. Osric I have fought with and against in tourneys and in battle, and I know he will also do the white proud. Good men to have at your back Ser Duncan and good men to have defending the royal family.”

Lord Gerold speaks then and says. “I think Ser Osric most definitely, and then perhaps Ser Jonothor though he might be too young yet to take the white.”

Lord Desmond speaks for the first time. “Ser Osric and Ser Errold most definitely.”

Aegon nods and then knowing what Raymun and Nymor will say, looks at Dunk and says. “Ultimately the decision is yours Ser Duncan, but I think Ser Osric Royce and Ser Jonothor Darry would most definitely make a fine pair of knights to take the white.”


	3. Exile Life

**Tenth Month of 235 A.C. Tyrosh**

**Daemon Blackfyre**

Tyrosh was a welcome place to be after five months of fighting in the cesspits of gods knows where. The disputed lands were like another home for Daemon and his cousins and the men of the Golden Company, four times they had fought there and each time they had won. You would think the sellsword companies would know not to bet against Tyrosh if the company was fighting for them, but some captains and generals were too greedy to realise common sense when it hit them in the face. And this was one of those times, the war in the disputed lands had been short, perhaps two months, the forces of Lys and its sellswords had been crushed and the Myrish had retreated, but as the Rogares were fighting alongside them, they had moved to Lys and taken the city. Raznak Rogare was now the ruling Prince of Lys and his family were back in power after a century out of it. Establishing control for the Rogares had been hard and required a lot of effort, but they were back now and they were safe. And Daemon had a walk around the town with Vaella to keep his mind off of the war.

In the two months before he had marched for war Daemon had come to deeply appreciate Vaella, she was sweet and spoke of things other than war and politics. And she looked mighty beautiful as she did today, they turned heads wherever they went and Daemon did not hesitate to point that out. “It seems you have quite the following my lady.” He said. “The men and even the women of Tyrosh are looking at you in envy.”

Vaella looked around and then laughed daintily. “Oh I do not think I am the only thing they are looking at Daemon. After all your exploits in the recent war have brought you much fame and glory here. I am sure the women are looking at us together and are going green with envy, as they feel it should be them and not me on your arm. And the men and boys are wanting to be you.”

Daemon blushed slightly at the compliment and said. “I doubt it. I was merely doing my job. It was King Daemon and Aegor who did all the main muscle work, I merely followed orders and helped see all go according to plan. But enough of the war, what have you been doing since I was away my lady?”

Vaella smiled slightly and said. “Oh you know the usual. I spent a fair bit of time working with the local charities here. Helping make sure the orphans had enough to see them through the winter, and that there was enough money going into the orphanages so that they could see to any rebuilding that might need to be done. Apart from that I have been doing a fair bit of reading as well.”

Daemon nods and asks. “What did you read about? Was it the Dance of Dragons or was it the conquest?”

Vaella shakes her head and says. “It was neither. It was about the period of anarchy during the reigns of the Gardeners in the Reach. When one king grew so old and feeble he was no longer able to rule his realm properly, the Peakes and the Manderlys began contesting who should succeed him, as this king had not produced a son but had many daughters, and both Lords Peake and Manderly had wed a daughter each. And so war waged for a decade and more as the king died and then more grew until, the Tyrells joined with other houses of the Reach and ended both Peake and Manderly’s aspirations and placed the second cousin of the old king on the throne. He who became Mern VI. It was a very fascinating read and a good lesson of the troubles that can come of anarchy and an unclear succession.”

Daemon chuckles somewhat and says. “Would that our great grandsire had followed that example and made it more than clear who he meant to see succeed him eh?”

“Do you mean to say you are having doubts about your cousin’s claim?” Vaella asks.

Daemon immediately shakes his head and says. “No Vaella I am not. King Daemon is just that the rightful king, the king Westeros needs and the king it deserves. I was just meaning that so much war and bloodshed could have been avoided otherwise. But regardless I am going off topic, what more have you read since last we met?”

Vaella is silent a moment and then she says. “Well I read a little about the Freehold and about how during the grand balls the ruling families threw, it was customary for the leading lord and lady to begin the first dance and as such they would dance and dance and often would end up becoming quite well acquainted with one another.”

Daemon notices a slight blush on Vaella’s cheeks begin to appear and he asks very softly. “Is that something you would like to do Vaella? Dance?”

Vaella nods, and so he leads her to a place away from the crowd and in a quiet corner and then he takes her hand and says. “I must forewarn you I am not a good dancer, not as good as King Daemon or as Aegor.”

“That does not matter for neither am I.” Vaella says though she lies for when they begin, she is the one leading him through the moves and they dance for what seems like hours to him, but might actually be only minutes. They stop at a cough from someone and Daemon looks up to see Aegor standing there looking slightly amused.

“King Daemon wishes to see you Daemon.” Aegor says.

Daemon sighs and removes his hands from Vaella, he says simply. “I will be there shortly.” He then leads Vaella back to her house kisses her hand says. “Until next time my lady.” He then walks back to the manse where they are all making camp.

There he is greeted by King Daemon, Aegor, Bittersteel and Maelys. King Daemon speaks first. “What is this I hear about you gallivanting round the streets of Tyrosh with the Targaryen whore?”

Daemon bristles slightly at that and says curtly. “I was not gallivanting around Your Grace. I was merely walking with her, as I said I would.”

King Daemon snorts at that and says. “Be careful of her cousin. She might pretend to be simple, but she is still a Targaryen and she is still a traitor and a cunning one at that. For all you know she might actually be trying to use you on behalf of her Falseborn uncle. Trying to get secrets of our plans out.”

Daemon is about to say Vaella would never do something like that but keeps quiet and instead says. “I am a grown man Your Grace, I do not need you to watch out for me or even try and look after me I can do it myself.”

“Oh but I do cousin. After all how could we forget Serenei and the pain she caused you? She played you like a fiddle cousin, what is there to say Vaella will not do the same?” King Daemon asks a mocking lilt to his tone.

Daemon feels anger well up inside of him at the mention of that woman’s name and he says through gritted teeth. “Watch yourself Your Grace. It would be a shame to have a king without a tongue.”

Bittersteel speaks then. “Enough. We do not have time to have you two squabbling like little children. Now Daemon did you deal with those assassins that were left?”

Daemon nods and says. “I did. Those that came after me were more than easy enough to kill. Those that tried to come for the King were slightly harder but they were killed all the same. And they had some very interesting things to say.”

“Such as? Anything worthy of note?” Aegor asks.

Daemon nods and says. “Indeed. The one who remained alive long enough to talk began blabbering on about how they had been sent by Nymor Martell to do the king’s bidding and how there would be more attempts in the near future until we were all dead. He also said that Lord Otho Bracken was dead and that the rebel alliance building there had receded into oblivion.”

At this Bittersteel curses and says. “I knew it. I knew the Martells would have something to do with this. They have had their claws into the Iron Throne ever since the Falseborn wed Mariah Martell. Something will need to be done about them and soon.”

King Daemon speaks then. “Then perhaps now is the time more than ever to invade. If we do invade now, the rebel alliance will have something to stand alongside and fight for. We cannot allow such an opportunity to fade away into nothingness.”

Daemon shakes his head. “Invading Westeros now would be akin to suicide. We have no concrete allies, those who would join us will not do so unless we win some minor victories and then a major one. With our strength as it is now, we will not be able to do so, and we won’t even attract the houses as powerful as the Brackens. Lord Otho Bracken was the key to that and he is gone.”

King Daemon though is adamant. “Sitting here waiting for something to happen is not going to do us any good. It has been seventeen years almost since my father invaded Westeros. We cannot let the people forget us, we must move forward and we must do so now. If we wait we shall be forever clinging onto something that seems to be drifting away.”

Aegor speaks then. “Aye, I agree with the King. Whilst we could have done with some more time, truly we must invade and we must invade soon otherwise people will forget we exist if they have not done so already.”

Bittersteel speaks then. “Ideally it would have been nice to have someone such as Lord Otho supporting us, but we cannot all have what we want in life. I am growing old, and soon enough will not be able to fight as much as I want. If we are to invade let it be soon, but first we must figure out what is going on in Westeros. And that might take time.”

“And that is something we are noticeably thin on!” King Daemon says. “We need to strike now whilst the feeling of discontent is still there in the Westerosi, otherwise there will be nothing for us to take hold of in a few years time and we shall be left high and dry.”

Daemon sighs and tries one last tactic. “Then you must wed and secure the dynasty beforehand so that the lords know you have an heir to follow you should you fall in battle.”

At this the king grows quiet, and thoughtful his one true love Jeremy had died fighting alongside them in Lys and now there is the matter of the Peake betrothal. But still the king goes on. “We invade now, strike whilst the iron is hot and we shall succeed.”

Knowing he has been overruled Daemon concedes and soon enough the men are all armed and trained. Ready for battle, and as the roars of the men go up around them as they board the ships meant for Westeros, Daemon cannot help but pray that they will be victorious this time. He has seen far too much blood in his lifetime to truly relish fighting anymore, but he will do his duty to his family and to Westeros the land he has never seen but the land that is theirs by right of blood. That Vaella comes to the docks to see him off adds even more meaning to this rebellion, and he promises himself that when he returns he will ask for her hand in marriage.


	4. Delights of War

**1 st Month of 236 A.C Massey’s Hook**

**King Aegon V Targaryen**

Winter had finally broken, six years after it had settled down onto the shores of Westeros. It had been a long and harsh winter, food supplies had come dangerously close to running out, and Aegon had watched as the smallfolk as always suffered the most, his attempts to ensure they had enough food and water and shelter during the winter had been met with a lot of hostility from the Lords of Westeros, most of whom had complained about it all saying that they needed their lands for their own use. There were times when Aegon did wish that his family still had dragons, for then the lords of Westeros might grumble about what he asked of them but they would still do it, for none would dare question the dragon when it looked them in the eye. Thankfully Nymor and his spies had dealt with Lord Otho Bracken and those dissidents who had been about to follow him into rebellion, though the Blackfyres remained alive, they did not have the full support that they might have otherwise have gotten for their invasion.

It was this point Aegon was trying to convey to the lords assembled in the command tent at Massey’s Hook. “Aye the Golden Company might be 10,000 strong and they might have some 7,000 other sellswords working for them. But the 10,000 of them that are fighting are battle weary and tired, and more like to make mistakes. And sellswords have always been of a fickle nature, there is gold enough in the treasury to try and persuade these sellswords that the Blackfyres are not the ones to be fighting for.”

His hand Lord Gerold nodded saying. “Indeed Your Grace. The royal coffers have never been so full as they are now. And these sellswords fight more for the rewards that they believe Daemon Blackfyre might be able to provide them rather than any true loyalty to the man’s cause.”

Lord Massey who had been forced to flee from his castle at the sight of the Golden Company though was of a different mind. “You do not understand Your Grace. They might be fewer in number than us here, but they have a great deal of strength and self believe, more so than I believe the rebels had during the third Blackfyre rebellion. Something is uniting them all together.”

Lord Bar Emmon speaks in agreement. “Aye Lord Massey is right to be worried. My own men who have been sent to try and hinder the Blackfyres report that they are fighting with a vigour not seen since the days of Redgrass Field Your Grace. There is something else at work here.”

Aegon looks at his cousin Nymor and then asks. “Nymor what do you and your spies have to say? Do you think that these Blackfyres could be anymore successful than their predecessors?”

His cousin looks as if he has aged so many years since the whole issue with his daughter began. He whispers. “Yes, Your Grace I do believe they could be a threat. Though we need not fear them gaining aid from the houses here in Westeros, for those lords who still harbour Blackfyre sympathies will sit and wait to see what happens here before acting. But there is something, or rather someone holding them all together. This band of sellswords and cutthroats who have flocked to the black dragon banner. And that is Daemon Blackfyre, not the pretender who claims himself as King Daemon, but his cousin. The commander of arms within the Golden Company.”

Aegon is intrigued by this and so asks. “So you mean to tell me that, these men who are fighting for the Black Dragon, fight not for the man they have named King but for the man who trains them and raises them to the ranks?”

Nymor nods. “Aye Your Grace that is it. They fight for the one who has raised them to the men they are now, not for the one they would see sit the throne. At least that is what my spies have been able to tell me.”

“So do you think there might be a chance to cause trouble within the ranks of the company using this information?” Lord Gerold asks.

Nymor shakes his head and says. “No, unfortunately not my lord. For my spies have gathered all they could from observing Daemon Blackfyre at work and what they have reported suggests that he is a man who will never betray his cause or his family no matter how tempting the offer.”

“What man could resist all the gold in the world and the promise of something more?” Lord Lyonel scoffs.

Nymor looks at him then and says. “Daemon Blackfyre is that person. The man is a born and bred soldier. He likes reading and researching warfare and training in the yard, he never once competed in any of those foolish jousts or melees that the company often held. He has never lost his temper out of battle nor does it seem as if battle lust takes over him in the heat of battle. He values his privacy and in fact one of my spies even told me that the man argued and threatened his chosen king when the man tried to pry into an issue that perhaps should not have been pried into. And his loyalty is only to the Blackfyre cause, he will fight for his cousin until his very last breath if needs be, and he will say what he thinks even if it gets him into trouble with the pretender or Bittersteel. The man knows no intrigue and as such it does seem as if his courting of Vaella might actually be genuine. Therefore, no, no such offers will get him to break. His men are loyal to him and he is loyal to his king, and so they are as well.”

Aegon sighs and says. “Then we are indeed in a very difficult position. Lord Massey who was it who was commanding the host that took your castle from you?”

Lord Massey understandably looks ashamed at the mention but still he says. “Some black dragon named Aegor Blackfyre. The boy, for that is what he is, was brash and bold and he lost some men taking the castle but his actions were such that I was able to flee before he could truly take a hold of the castle proper.”

“So there would be people within Stone Dance who would be willing to help us in our quest to remove Aegor Blackfyre from your castle and his men from your lands?” Aegon asks.

Lord Massey nods. “Yes, Your Grace. In fact I do believe that as we speak they are working to do such a thing.”

Aegon looks to Nymor then and asks him. “Now, what information have your spies been able to gather on Aegor Blackfyre?”

Nymor is silent for a moment and then he responds. “The boy was newly knighted by his namesake, he is just seventeen years of age the oldest son of Laenor Blackfyre, Daemon Blackfyre’s sixth son. He is bold and rash, and is good with a sword. Should it come to it, he will be the one leading the vanguard, and he will be the one making all the calls regardless of what his elders tell him.”

Aegon nods and then makes a call there and then. “Very well, we shall ride for Stonedance today. We are but an hour’s ride from it as it is. Ser Duncan shall lead the vanguard and shall lead the sellswords in the castle out. Lord Gerold shall command the left and shall attack the sellsword host from the left side, smash their windows in my lord and break them. I shall command the right and be the one to deal the blow to their commander. The reserve I shall give to  you Lord Massey. Once the front is broken, ride to your castle and retake it.”

The lords nod and then the meeting ends and they all prepare for battle, before they ride out Aegon calls his lord commander Dunk into his tent and says. “I have give you an important role to play in this war Dunk. Protect my son for me.”

Dunk nods and says. “Of course Your Grace.”

“Oh and Dunk, if you see him. Kill Daemon Blackfyre.” Aegon says.

Soon enough they are mounted and riding towards Stone Dance, when they arrive at the outside of the castle, Aegon finds that just as he thought, Aegor Blackfyre has sent men out to face them instead of waiting for them to come to him. Fighting rings out and the gates of Stone Dance are wide open, Aegon sighs, this will be easier than he had thought. He draws Dark Sister from its sheath and begins his role in the battle. Swinging his sword, left, right and centre, men fall down as if they are nothing more than flies. He loses track of their faces and appearances, only blood pumping into his ears and the same expression of fear is imbued into his eyes.

He receives a fare few blows, dents to his armour and blows that will wound over in time, blood flows from some of the wounds. One man swings, and Aegon blocks, and then another swings, and Aegon just manages to raise his sword up in time. Ser Osric takes care of the first culprit barrelling into him, Aegon engages in a duel with the second. Swinging, blocking, swinging, connecting, getting hit, this is the flow of battle. On it goes, hacking and slashing, cutting, blocking, moving forward, moving backward. On and on it goes, until Aegon puts Dark Sister into the man’s chest and then pulls out the man falling to the ground dead.

Eventually he comes face to face with someone who looks just as the portraits of Daemon Blackfyre suggest he looked. So this is Aegor Blackfyre, the man wields a morning star and he is wild and reckless with it. Aegon receives, blow after blow of the thing, his armour beginning to cave in, but the young Blackfyre is just that and as such begins tiring out just as Aegon begins to notice the chinks in his armour. He exploits them as best he can, a feint here, a jab there, a block, and then the killing blow. A swing, a hack, a jab, a swing, a hack and a jab and then Aegor Blackfyre is lying face down in the ground dead.

After that the battle of Stone Dance comes to an end as the men fighting for Aegor Blackfyre either surrender or flee, or are killed. The people of Stone Dance cheer when Aegon rides in with Lord Massey, and then later once the feast and the atmosphere of battle has died down, Aegon calls another war council and speaks. “We have won an important battle, but that does not mean the war is over. Aegor Blackfyre commanded this host, not Daemon Blackfyre or the pretender or Aegor Rivers. How many men did this man have?”

It is Nymor who looks slightly worse for wear who answers. “5,000 men Your Grace. They fought hard and long, but we were always guaranteed to win.”

Aegon nods and says. “They had 5,000 men and yet they managed to bloody us good. We have lost many thousands of men tonight. And we shall lose more before this war is over. But we must ride on and find where the pretender himself rests before we can end this.”

Nymor speaks then. “My sources have managed to find and report back to me. The pretender landed at Wendwater. Lord Wendwater has bent the knee and sworn his swords to the man. They mean to launch a probe into the Stormlands from there.”

Aegon nods. “Then we shall ride for Wendwater it two days time. Lord Lyonel you shall lead the centre, and the main attack on the Blackfyre host. Let us end this rebellion now.”


	5. The Foolhardy

**2 nd Month of 236 A.C. Wendwater**

**King Daemon III Blackfyre**

Life as an exile had taught King Daemon one thing, and that was that he could only truly count on himself and his family to pull through in times of need. Everyone else was expendable and should be treated as such, this was a lesson the king had learnt the hard way, after his lover Jeremy Strickland had died in his arms in Lys. He who had said he would never leave Daemon, had died and left. Daemon had punished those who had killed Jeremy most severly afterwards and then wept into his mother’s arms when they had returned. Now though it was just him and his cousins, his brothers had died alongside their father seventeen years ago and his uncles Aegon, Aemon and Daemon had never fathered children. His cousin Daemon was a good soldier and a very capable commander though Daemon did worry over his cousin’s infatuation with the Targaryen girl. His cousin Aegor was, or rather had been a bold and brash youth but someone Daemon saw a lot of himself in, and he had high hopes for, his death at Stone Dance had been a huge blow. Then there was his cousin Maelys, who was young, but was so grotesque that none truly knew him. Maelys father, the youngest of the Black Dragon’s sons Vaegon was a proud man their master of whispers, their spy master, he had many uses and had many spies within the Targaryen court. It was because of information he had shared that Daemon had called a war council.

“Aegor is dead, his death is most unfortunate but he died doing what he was commanded to do. He took Stone Dance and held it, and then he managed to weaken the Targaryen army. We must move forward from here. The Targaryens are riding towards us as we speak and will likely be here any day now. And as such we must plan for what we must needs do.” King Daemon said.

Bittersteel angry and calm at the same time said. “Aye, we must move forward from here. Now Lord Wendwater has sworn his sword to us, but he is but a minor lord we must win more prominent lords to our cause. Vaegon, has there been word from Staunton, Stokeworth or their ilk?”

 Vaegon was a soft speaker at the best of times and now his voice seemed to have grown even softer. “Stokeworth outright refused to swear his sword to his grace, and is riding with Aegon Targaryen to prove his loyalty to that man. Lord Staunton has not replied, but the implication is clear, he shall wait and see how we do now before committing. As to the others there has been only deathly silence.”

“Cowards, the lot of them.” King Daemon says. “They swore their sword easily enough to my father when he invaded. What is it that has them clearing off now?”

His cousin Daemon speaks then. “It is because we have just come out of a six year winter. A winter in which many of the lords would have had to keep everything they had close together incase war broke out or if there was dissent within their own house. They do not want to risk committing now when history is stacked against us Your Grace.”

“He speaks sense Your Grace.” Vaegon says. “It might have been wiser to wait until there was more profound discontent with Aegon Targaryen. Right now though there is not and the odds are truly stacked against us. We have only 15,000 men here, most of questionable loyalty, Targaryen has some 30,000 men with him after the Lords of the Riverlands joined him.”

Daemon feels a sense of helplessness and as so often happened during the course of his life, Bittersteel comes to his aid. “Hasn’t the boy ridden out with all three of his sons? Duncan, Jaehaerys and Daeron?” When Vaegon nods, Bittersteel goes on. “Well there is our opportunity then. We know Duncan squires for that hedge knight, and Jaehaerys is not a fighter and as such will likely be kept away from the main fray. But the boy, the boy must be captured and brought back. We take the boy we hold a key and the Targaryen war effort will be weakened.”

“That is a sound plan Ser Aegor, but then how would we get to the boy when he will likely be guarded beyond belief?” Vaegon asks. “We have no true clean killers that can sneak in and out without recognition, and asking anyone outside this council to do so, would be most unwise.”

Daemon speaks then and says. “Oh but that is where you are wrong nuncle. We do have someone with enough skill to sneak into and out of the enemy formation and take the boy. Cousin Daemon, what say you? Take the boy and then we can weaken the Targaryen effort.”

His cousin is silent for a very long time and Daemon fears he will refuse, but then he nods and asks. “Very well I shall do this. But then will I command a part of the host or is this a solo operation that you wish for me to do in the heat of battle?”

Ah, now this was always going to be a stumbling block. His cousin is dedicated to fighting to the very end, and such covert operations always sting with him. So smiling slightly Daemon says. “You will lead the van as you always do, but you shall give command over to one of your underlings when the opportunity presents itself, do you understand?”

His cousin nods and then asks. “So how many men exactly does Lord Wendwater believe shall answer his call to arms? For I know some 200 have already come to the castle, but we need more men and more allies if we are to truly challenge the Targaryens.”

Daemon runs a hand through his hair and says. “Well, Wendwater believes all of his 1,000 men should be coming soon enough he needs more time, but that is time we do not have. Lord Peake wrote before we left saying that he would muster what strength he could before the time came, but as of yet there has been no news of his movements.”

Bittersteel speaks then. “Aye, the Peakes have always been worms most of the time. Gormon was the only decent one and he is dead now. After their own rebellion that saw Maekar dead, they are likely waiting to see what happens here. Despite the fact that you are betrothed to one of their own.”

Vaegon clears his throat and says. “Actually Your Grace, it would appear that betrothal is off.”

“Off? What do you mean off?” Daemon asks.

His uncle grimaces somewhat and says. “Lord Unwin Peake has married his daughter Lady Serra, the woman you were betrothed to, off to Ser Raymun Fossoway’s grandson and heir Domeric. Something to do with aiding in settling a dispute.”

Daemon sighs and feels the wind leave his sails. “Then Peake will not fight alongside us. The Fossoways have always been loyal to the Targaryens, going back to gods knows when. We must find more ways to create something better and positive out of this. Who else is there that we could possibly have myself betrothed to?”

Vaegon shakes his head and says. “Alas no, all those who might have suitable daughters have wed them all off to those they feel more appropriate. We are running low on options and it would not do to wed you to someone not from Westeros, when you hope to rule here.”

Bittersteel speaks then. “What of the girl? Aegon Targaryen’s girl? What was her name Shaera? Surely she is of a marriageable age?”

Vaegon shakes his head. “She has flowered, but her father is waiting for her to turn sixteen. And as such she is a lady in waiting to her aunt in the Vale, there is not a chance that now we can get to her. We have not the resources nor wherewithal to be able to pull that off.”

Daemon sighs then and says. “Then perhaps I should wed a cousin. It might do well after Aegor’s death to soothe the family tension. Though there are also the Velaryons.”

“The Velaryons bring nothing to the table. Their fleet is in ruins, their island is nothing but barren. And their lord is an oaf. We would gain nothing from such a marriage. It would be better for you to wed a cousin.” Bittersteel says.

Daemon nods sighing somewhat. “Very well but we shall now need to discuss the battle that will come forth soon.”

His cousin speaks then. “The Wendwater Bridge provides us with a chance to station men on the left and right banks of the Wendwater itself. There is a slope on the left hill which will mean that our arrows can fall through and hit the Targaryens as hard as possible. We must needs draw them towards the bridge and the river that is there.”

Daemon nods and then asks. “And what of the bridge itself, we must have men there.”

His cousin nods. “Aye, if the cut throats from the Basilisk Isles or the summer islanders who are with us are stationed there they can be used as the main bait to tempt the Targaryens over the bridge and to their doom.”

Daemon nods seeing the logic in what his cousin is saying before concluding everything. “Very well then, Daemon you shall command the vanguard, make sure to give subordinate command to someone you trust when the opportunity presents itself. Nuncle Aegor you shall command the left, I shall command the right. And Ser Harrold Strickland shall command the reserve. This time we shall win.”

It takes two days for the Targaryen host to arrive, in that time only 400 more men have come to answer Lord Wendwater’s call to arms. It makes no matter though, for the battle is about to start, Daemon sits waiting on the right hand side of the bridge with his men, waiting and watching as the Targaryens and their men fight the cutthroats on the bridge, when those men fall, Daemon draws Blackfyre and charges into the fray. The men he is fighting bear the arms of houses from the Crownlands and from the Riverlands, he slays them all relishing in the fight and the feeling of his sword connecting with their necks and skin. He is a god amongst men when fighting, slaying, swinging and hacking cutting down men like they are nothing more than rag dolls.

He takes a few blows of his own dents and scratches that do draw blood but nothing serious. More men fall to his blade before he comes face to face with a giant of a man wearing a white cloak. A knight of the Kingsguard then, they do not exchange greetings they merely, begin their dance. Swinging their swords at one another, hacking and slashing. The man is strong and that makes up for what he lacks in skill, his strength makes Daemon curse multiple times and still they fight. Blow after blow is landed on one another, and still their dance goes on.

A swing, a duck, a hack, a dodge, that is how their battle goes. Swinging, blocking, doing whatever it takes to get an edge over the other, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking. Cuts and blows all of that comes and stings, and Daemon begins to tire, and still he fights on.  The battle rages on around him and still all he can see is the giant in front of him who does not seem to be tiring down though Daemon himself is growing tired and weary. He slips up and finds his left hand taken off, his right hand aching from where the blows have come. And still the fight goes on, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking, and then Daemon finds his sword knocked out of his hand and then he feels steel, cold steel slam into him and then he knows nothing more. Daemon III Blackfyre dies, slain by Ser Duncan the Tall Lord Commander of the Kingsguard at the battle of Wendwater Bridge, and with him ends the fourth Blackfyre rebellion.


	6. Last Stand

**2 nd Month of 236 A.C. Wendwater**

**Ser Daemon Blackfyre**

The sounds of battle echoed all around him, the Wendwater was flowing red with the blood of those who had fallen, and Daemon knew, he just knew they were losing the tide. Of course, right now most of his attention was focused on fighting and maybe killing the green boy who had gotten in his way, the falseborn’s heir Duncan Targaryen. The boy was a good fighter, but as with all young men he wished to fight quick and flashy. It was easy for Daemon to read his movements before he made them, a swing here was something Daemon blocked, a hack there, Daemon thrust his shield out and knocked the boy to the ground. He then began his own fight with the boy, swinging and hacking away at the boy’s armour, denting it, breaking his shield, and on it went. Swinging, hacking, blocking, swinging, hacking and blocking. The boy had courage Daemon would give him that but, he was young, and Daemon had experience, there was only so far youthful vigour could carry you after all. Daemon swung and swung, and the boy’s defence eventually began to weaken.

The boy swung his sword once more and Daemon blocked it, steel on steel screeched, and Daemon winced somewhat at the sound, but still the boy kept swinging. Eventually Daemon decided that enough was enough, it was time to end this duel and get to the other boy. Duncan Targaryen swung his sword, and Daemon blocked it and then when they broke apart, before Duncan could swing again, Daemon swung hard and fast, knocking the boy’s sword out of his hand. Daemon saw through his helm, the boy’s eyes grow wide as he realised what this could mean. Daemon swung again dragging his sword up and cutting a deep hole into the boy’s armour, his sword was stained red. He then threw his shield at the boy winding him and knocking him to the ground. He then brought his knee up and connected it with the boy’s chin, bringing the boy crashing down to the ground. Daemon then raised his sword ready to strike the killing blow when out the corner of his eye he sees a flash of white and then a body go down. He kicks the boy and knocks him out, and turns to see that his cousin Daemon is lying on the ground and the white knight, the hedge knight is standing over him.

Something takes over Daemon in that moment, and he raises his sword and begins cutting through the men standing in his way, cutting through them with ease until he is standing before the hedge knight. Neither of them bother exchanging words or pleasantries they are both too tired for that, instead the battle begins once more. A swing, a hack from Daemon and the hedge knight is bleeding from his side. A swing and a hack again and the hedge knight is beginning to lag, and then Daemon trips on some blood and the hedge knight strikes back, a swing and a hack, and then Daemon winces slightly as he feels steel touch his flesh and feels the blood come pouring out of a fresh wound. Their dance goes on like this for some time, the battle ebbs and flows around him, he knows his uncle is still around and fighting, and so long as he keeps fighting perhaps the men will keep doing so as well.

A swing and a hack here, a block and a dodge there, the dance that they two men have entered continues for sometime. A swing, a hack, a swing and a hack, a swing and a hack. Steel screeches, and sparks fly and their dance continues on. Duncan the Tall, that is what the hedge knight is called is strong and quick, and a good sword fighter. This Daemon learns very soon, and soon enough there is blood on both their blades, from one another and from previous foes. The ground is damp, and there are so many bodies lying there that Daemon is sure that soon enough one of them will trip. The Wendwater itself is over flowing, Daemon can see that from where he stands defending himself from an onslaught of blows from the hedge knight. The dance continues, a swing and a hack, but Daemon is younger than the hedge knight and stronger as well, more used to fighting in such conditions and when he notices a weak spot in the ground, he pummels the hedge knight until he is standing in the river, and when that comes to pass, another swing and another hack and the hedge knight is dead, his head removed from his body.

Daemon means to push on and end this once and for all, but he knows they are severely outnumbered, so finding his squire he yells. “Bring the men back. We must retreat to the boats. Find Bittersteel and tell him this.” His squire nods and dutifully goes to do as bid, and soon enough, with Blackfyre in hand Daemon leads his men, or what is left of them back to their ships and back across the narrow sea another defeat and another broken rebellion. How much more of this they can take he knows not, they should never have tried to invade Westeros now, they had not the support nor the means of truly succeeding. Aegon Targaryen might be a strange king but he is still a good one and he still has the loyalty of his lords.

The two week long journey back to Tyrosh is done mostly in silence, Daemon knows Bittersteel is angry and is brooding, and he knows his uncle Vaegon is remaining quiet for his own good, after all he too encouraged the invasion. When they arrive back at the manse in Tyrosh, the whole house and family is quiet and silent and it remains this way for some five days before Bittersteel calls a family meeting. Bittersteel, his wife Calla and their son Daemon are there, as is Daemon’s sons Aegon and Aegor. Daemon’s mother Laena is there, as are Vaegon and Maelys as well as his own mother Larra and sisters Serra and Daenys. There is silence for a long time and then Bittersteel speaks his voice tired sounding. “We lost this war. We did not have enough support nor the means of truly establishing a foot hold in Westeros had we won at the Wendwater. We lost Daemon and Aegor, and now we are back to square one again. As with the previous failed rebellions, there are lessons to learn from this and one main lesson is that we must be cautious and we must have a leader and a king fit to wear the crown of the conqueror and wield his sword. There is such a man present, and his name is that of his cousin and his grandfather. Daemon Blackfyre, I do name you King, and hereby pledge my undying loyalty to you. All Hail King Daemon Blackfyre, fourth of his name and the rightful king of Westeros.” Bittersteel gets down on bended knee as do the rest of the family and as they chant his name, Daemon sighs, more war and death on it will go.

Eventually Daemon bids them rise and speaks. “Thank you Ser Aegor. Your continued service and loyalty in ensuring that we receive what is rightfully ours is most appreciated and shall not be forgotten when the time comes.” He pauses then taking a drink of water. Then looking at the rest of the family he speaks. “We have spent far too long in the shadows and in Tyrosh. We have hidden and waited and hidden and waited. And when we invaded this time we had no aid whatsoever from those who would see a black dragon on the throne. That must change, and it shall. I mean to propose marriage to Vaella Targaryen.” At that there is some murmuring and it quietens down when Daemon raises a hand. “Now I know some here think she might be a spy working for Aegon the unlikely, but I know she is not. She is a kind and sweet lady, who will also give us a way to truly legitimise our rule. But that is beside the point, there are things that must be done now that one rebellion is over and finished. We must regroup and give ourselves time to heal. But we must also branch out. To Lys and Myr we could go, or to Volantis, where there are many rich pickings and to Pentos as well.”

Maelys speaks then. “What good would going to Volantis do us? They are firmly behind the Targaryens. As is Pentos. Myr might as well be, and Lys, the Rogares are too busy fucking each other to care about Westeros.”

Bittersteel speaks then his tone angry. “Volantis will turn for us, because it will be in their interests to do so. I shall see to that. As for Pentos well the Mopatis family has always been good to us, and the head of that family owes me a favour or two. And it is time I called those in. As for the Rogares, they will repay us in time as well. We must needs focus on Westeros though and seeing to it that Aegon Targaryen’s reign is destabilized.”

Though he has no head for intrigue, Daemon is a soldier and as such treats politics as war. “Indeed. We must find ways to get into the man’s court and whisper poison into his ear. We do not have the boy, Daeron, but we might be able to get him with old allies in the Reach. Send word to Ser Lyman Norridge, he is to send his son to squire at Highgarden as the boy will be there soon enough as well.”

Bittersteel nods and then asks. “Is there aught more you wish to discuss now?”

“No Ser. You may all leave, I have a lady to meet.” Daemon replies.

A few hours later he is walking with Vaella through the courtyard of the manse and she asks. “So I hear that you are now a king?” Daemon looks at her surprised. She laughs. “Oh fear not Your Grace, no one blabbed but I have been around enough kings to know what one looks like. You hold yourself like a king, strong and proud, and dignified. You always have done, its just become more pronounced.”

Daemon sighs. “I never wanted this. I am a soldier Vaella, that is all I know. I do not want to be king.”

“And that is why you will make an excellent one. Westeros needs someone like you Daemon. Your men and family respect you, admire you and love you. It will be easy for you to rally the lords to your cause.” Vaella says.

“But what if they grow tired of the Blackfyres and the threat we pose to their stability? War, constant war is not good for a realm. Lords get tired and women grow weary.” Daemon asks.

“Oh they will. If there was one thing I learnt of my uncle growing up, it was that he tries to please people. But he does not know how to go about it. He will end up angering them in some way or the other, and when they see you, and compare him to you, they will go with you always.” Vaella says looking at him then.

Daemon looks at her then and his heart is beating rapidly when he asks. “And what of you Vaella? Where will you go?”

She looks at him then, with a piercing gaze her violet eyes staring into his intently. “With you, I always want to be with you.”

Daemon’s own heart is beating very quickly now. He looks at her and then says huskily. “Then marry me and become my queen.”

Silence reigns for all of a moment before Vaella replies. “Yes.” And then Daemon is kissing her and she is kissing him back and there has never been a better feeling.


	7. Prince of Dragonflies

**1 st Month of 237 A.C. King’s Landing/ the Riverlands**

**Prince Duncan Targaryen**

The fourth Blackfyre rebellion had been one that Duncan had fought in, and had bled in, his friends and fellow squires had fought in it and some of them had died as well. Tywald amongst them, his best friend had died and that had caused him no amount of pain, as had his mentor and his honorary uncle Ser Duncan the Tall, and it was that death that had hurt Duncan the most. Ser Duncan, or Dunk as he was more commonly known had been one of the constants in Duncan’s young life, always there with a jape or a story from when he and Duncan’s father the King had travelled around Westeros. That he was gone, slain by Daemon Blackfyre, the new pretender angered Duncan, and the knighthood his father had given him after the war had ended had left a bitter taste in his mouth, it should have been Dunk knighting him. The war itself, Duncan saw as a waste of life and a waste of time, something that should never have come to fruition, and yet had because of the greed of men.  And now with Ser Raymun Fossoway dead, and Lord Lyonel Baratheon having resigned his post as master of laws, Duncan had found himself seated at the small council table alongside a cousin Robin Penrose.

It seemed that the main purpose of this council meeting was to discuss the news that had come from Tyrosh. For Ser Nymor Martell the master of whispers was the one who started the meeting. “My spies have grave tidings to report from Tyrosh my lords and my king. It does appear that Daemon Blackfyre, he who has called himself King Daemon IV Blackfyre has wed Lady Vaella, Prince Daeron’s daughter. Their marriage occurred some two weeks ago as the new year was being welcomed in. A union that many within the Blackfyre circle hope will bring more glory and legitimacy to their campaign.”

There was an audible sigh then and then the King spoke. “It seems that my niece has forgotten where her true loyalties lie. No doubt this is some sort of magic trick by those damn maeges that Bittersteel has in his employ. Daemon Blackfyre is a career soldier and though his own courtship of Vaella might have been genuine, I would have thought the girl would have more sense.”

Ser Nymor spoke once more. “It does appear that Lady Vaella returned Daemon Blackfyre’s attention with equal fervour Your Grace. My spies within the company often wrote of seeing the two of them in each other’s presence for long periods of time. And oftentimes they would discuss Lady Vaella’s time in King’s Landing. It does seem as if your niece was not all that enamoured with King’s Landing.”

Duncan’s father gave an audible sigh then. “Aye, there were times when I had wished that perhaps father or Daeron might have treated her better. But then father was busy ensuring none rebelled and Daeron, gods Daeron was busy drinking away his inheritance. But that is neither here nor there. She was raised to know better, and as such perhaps it will not matter that they are married. For did you not say that support for the Blackfyres has reached its lowest level since the first Blackfyre rebellion?”

Ser Nymor nodded. “It has indeed Your Grace, since the last rebellion last year, more and more lords and nobles are beginning to distance themselves from any prior ties they had to the black dragon. The word is that they see it as a sinking ship and one that they do not wish to be associated with.”

King Aegon nodded and then Lord Gerold spoke, the hand seemed aged and tired. “But there are still reports of unrest and some misrule in some regions is there not Ser Nymor?”

“There is indeed my lord hand. My sources report that there has been much fighting as of late between the Blackwoods and the Brackens over the lands that since time immemorial have been contested between the two. And it does seem as though such unrest is not like to end anytime soon. Then there are reports coming through that there are fighting between the marcher lords of the Stormlands and those lords from the Reach who have their borders with the Stormlands. And then there are rumours of a new pirate king holding sway in the Stepstones.” Ser Nymor said.

Duncan looked at his father and saw that the king looked most distressed at this news and yet it was Lord Gerold who spoke. “Lord Desmond what reason could there be for the fighting between the Marcher Lords and those Lords in the Reach whose lands border the Stormlands?”

Lord Desmond Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor and master of ships was a fat man, aging and balding but shrewd as well. “I am not sure my lord hand. But it might be to do with land disputes, those lords in the Reach who border the Stormlands are known to be a quarrelsome folk and are often looking for a chance to reap war and reward. I can write to Lord Gareth and ask him to quell these wars?”

Lord Gerold nods and says. “Do just that, we cannot have our two most valuable allies warring with one another. As for the Blackwoods and the Brackens, such a war will always be present as the two sides will never see reason when it comes to one another. That is a matter for Lord Tully to deal with, should it escalate only then will the throne come into play.”

The members of the small council all nodded and then the king turned to Duncan and asked him. “Now Duncan, what improvements have been made to the city watch since you took office?”

Duncan had been named master of laws shortly after the war had ended and Lord Lyonel had resigned his post and begged leave to head back to Storm’s End. He took a look at the notes in front of him before saying. “Those officials who were accepting overloads of payment beyond their station have been removed and sent to the wall. And the commander of the city watch Ser Alric is doing a fine job in restoring order to the streets of King’s Landing, crime is down to half of what it was under Ser Alric’s predecessor and the reforms that have been enacted are being received very well by the smallfolk of all the kingdoms. Though Lords Frey and Bracken have lodged complaint that their gods given right is being taken away from them.”

“And what did you say in response to their complaints?” his father asks.

Duncan smiles slightly as he remembers his letter, strongly worded as it was. “I told them that if they had more complaints then they could either come to King’s Landing to state openly their objections or they could shut up and accept the changes to the laws, or take the black. Since then there has not been a voice of complaint from either of them.”

The king nods then turns to the grand maester, and asks. “Maester Kaeth has there been response from Storm’s End as of yet?”

Lord Lyonel Baratheon had not been heard from in nearly a year, something that was deeply unusual for the Laughing Storm, the most adamant of King Aegon’s supporters and as such the council was beginning to worry. Grand Maester Kaeth shook his head though and says. “There has been no reply to the raven sent two weeks ago, nor the raven sent before that Your Grace. They may have gotten lost in the storms common to the Stormlands at this time of year, or they may simply have not formed a response yet.”

The king nods but does not seem convinced by this, he turns to Lord Robin Penrose the master of coin and asks. “You were in the Stormlands quite recently were you not Lord Robin. Did you per chance visit Storm’s End or happen to hear of the goings on at Storm’s End?”

Lord Robin hesitates for a moment before replying. “Whilst I was in the Stormlands, there was talk of a war with the houses of the Boneway or even those of the Prince’s Pass, some of the lords still hunger for the days of old, where the Young Dragon encouraged open war with Dorne. And then there was talk that Lord Lyonel was building a war fleet, as the Storm Kings had in days of old, though whether this talk is true or not I cannot say. What I do know is that Lord Lyonel’s oldest daughter Lady Dalla, recently wed Lord Marcus Swann, perhaps as a sign that Storm’s End supports the raiding of Dorne or the current fighting with the Reach.”

Troubling news in all, the king speaks then his tone worried. “Very well then. Maester Kaeth send out another raven to Storm’s End requesting that Lord Lyonel return to court to reacquaint himself with us. And Nymor find out whether there is any truth to these rumours of Storm’s End encouraging war with Dorne and the Reach. I could not see Lyonel doing something like this, his brother Davos maybe, but not Lyonel. He is a storm that is true, but he has reason in his head.”

Lord Robin speaks then. “It is possible that this is merely the talk of those who wish to see Lord Lyonel’s reputation ruined Your Grace, and nothing more.”

The king nods and then turns to Duncan and says. “I want you to go and settle this dispute between Lords Blackwood and Bracken. It is time that the two of them saw reason once and for all.”

Duncan nods, the council meeting comes to an end and then three days later Duncan is out riding for Raventree Hall, accompanied by Ser Osric Royce and Ser Serwyn of the Mirror Shield of the Kingsguard, Ser Lyman Norridge and Ser Tion Lannister the new heir to the Rock. They ride for some days taking in the scenery of the Riverlands and enjoying the beds of many a fair maiden along the way, and as they approach Raventree Hall they see the violence that a Blackwood- Bracken dispute can bring about, dressed in normal clothes so as not to draw attention to themselves they are roped into the fighting. Duncan slays four men bearing the arms of houses small enough that he does not recognise them, and he tries to get to Ser Osric’s aid but the white knight dies having fought five men all to himself, killing four of them.

Duncan swings his sword again and watches as it glitters and gleams with blood and light as more men are brought down, the fighting truly is worse than they were led to believe, he will have to let his father know. That is his last thought before his horse is brought down beneath him near the stream of death, and the world goes black. When he wakes he is nowhere near the battle or the stream of death, instead he is in the ruins of what seems to be an old first man fort. There are birds chirping and the fain echo of a breeze, but he sees none of his companions and that worries him.

He hears the rustling of the bushes near him and goes to grab his sword, but Truth is not on him and that worries him further. “Don’t worry I am not a Blackwood or a Bracken. I will not harm you.”

Duncan turns his head to the voice and finds himself looking at a short girl (or is she a woman) with long dark brown hair and muddy skin and dark brown eyes. “Who, who are you?” he asks.

“Me? I am the person who dragged you away from the stream of death to the Last Hero’s home. Away from those awful men fighting over land that is not theirs to right over.” The woman replies.

“I thank you for that my lady. But if I could know your true name that would be of the greatest benefit.” Duncan replies.

The strange child woman smiles then and says. “I am Jenny of Oldstones. And I have waited long to meet you Prince Duncan.”


	8. Laughing Storm

**Fifth month of 239 A.C. Storm’s End**

**Lord Lyonel Baratheon**

He was known as the laughing storm for his good humour and friendly nature, not one to blow hot and cold like his brother Davos or even his father Ormund. But, now, now he truly was angry, he was not like to neither forget nor forgive this slight. After everything he had done for the Egg, this was how he was repaid? A broken betrothal with the crown prince, a daughter who was dead because of her broken heart, and all for what? So that the crown prince could wed and marry some commoner? A crazy half woman, half child who seemed half mad. No, Lyonel was not going to accept this lying down, there was not a chance that he would accept this at all. And even though he was angry and he could feel the storms of Storm’s End growing inside of him, there was a small part of him that did mourn the ending of his friendship with Egg, and grieved for the boy who had been so charming and caring and inquisitive. That boy had been replaced with a solemn and strange king, who had bent to the will of his heir because of some precedence, that he, himself had set when he was younger.

“Think carefully on what you are going Lyonel. We cannot risk it all because of your hurt pride and anger.” His brother Harbert said.

Lyonel felt the full blast of anger hit him then. “My hurt pride? My hurt pride? You think I give a damn about my hurt pride? Because if you do, then you do not know me as well as I thought you did Harbert. I do not give a rat’s arse about my own hurt pride. I can deal with that, but the fact that I am now without a daughter because Duncan Targaryen could not keep his cock in his pants and had to, just had to wed that half mad woman from Oldstones. That is why I am angry, what that boy has done is an insult to my daughter and to House Baratheon. That is why I am angry.”

“I know brother, and I understand your anger. But think about it reasonably for a moment. The king has offered his deepest apologies, and has even offered to come to Storm’s End to patch things over. He has even offered his own daughter Rhaelle for Ormund. That is something at least.” Harbert said soothingly.

Lyonel snorted then. “He thinks to win me over with a replacement for what was originally promised. I am not such a great a fool as that. We were promised a marriage to the heir of the Iron Throne, not some second daughter. If there is to be a royal marriage it has to be with Duncan Targaryen and no one else.”

Lyonel heard his brother sigh then. “You know that will not happen. Duncan Targaryen has wed this girl, and has even accepted that he will be removed from the succession because of it. He will not accept your angry protestations that he set aside the girl.”

Lyonel felt his anger grow then and said. “Then I shall break ties with the Iron Throne and end this foolishness once and for all. Cressen!”

An on cue the young maester of Storm’s End walks in nervously. “Yes my lord?”

“Has there been word from Dondarrion or Caron? Have they ceased their foolish raiding in the Reach or not?” Lyonel asks.

“There was word from Lord Dondarrion my lord. He and Lord Caron saw fit to bring their men back to their castles once the peace treaty was signed with Lord Caswell. There are no hard feelings as far as Lord Dondarrion can tell.” Cressen replies.

“Good.” Lyonel responds. “Send ravens to Dondarrion, Caron and the other Marcher lords tell them to bring their men to Storm’s End and tell them to also leave some men behind in their castles, the Dornish no doubt will try and do something foolish. Also send word to the other houses in my lands and tell them to muster their men at arms. Tell them to prepare for war.”

Maester Cressen nods and then walks away. Lyonel looks at his brother then and Harbert speaks. “You are not thinking of declaring independence are you brother? That would be tantamount to suicide. We are surrounded by the Crownlands, the Reach and Dorne, and so far all of those regions are remaining loyal to the crown. We would all be dead within the month if we tried to rebel. Even if you were the king’s friend, the man has others whispering in his ear now.”

“It does have a certain ring to it does it not?” Lyonel asks. “King Lyonel Baratheon, first of my name, the Storm King. Away from King’s Landing, the pit of vipers that it has become. But no I do not mean to become the Storm King, I am not as foolish as to expect us to survive that bit of foolery. No we shall join with another dragon, a dragon in need of allies. The Black Dragon.”

At that his brother’s face slackens and then he asks. “Have you lost your senses brother? The Blackfyres are done, they are washed up. They will never succeed in winning the Iron Throne because they do not have the means or the support to do so.”

Lyonel laughs his famous booming laugh and says. “Oh brother, truly have you learnt nothing from history? The Blackfyres are no longer washed up and dried out as they were three years ago. They have a king who knows how to fight and how to fight well and smartly in Daemon IV. They have strong and powerful friends in the Rogares and the Archon of Tyrosh. And with us they will have a foothold in Westeros and the strength to take what is theirs and remove this reign of foolishness.”

His brother looks at him then as if assessing him and then he asks. “Are you one hundred percent sure of this Lyonel? Because if you aren’t there is still time to end this before it begins. For once you go down this path there is no going back.”

Lyonel looks at his brother straight in the face and says. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

It takes two weeks for his bannermen to come to Storm’s End, but when they do they bring their might with them. Dondarrion, Caron, Swann, Tarth, Estermont, Connington, Wylde, Boiling, Butler all come with their strength. All blistering under the insult that the Targaryens have dealt their lord and his daughter. Once they are seated and settled in his solar Lyonel speaks his voice booming of the walls. “My lords, I thank you for answering my call to arms. As you know Aegon Targaryen and his son Duncan have done my family a grave injustice. By allowing Duncan Targaryen to wed that common whore, Aegon has broken two hundred and thirty nine years of friendship between our two houses. He has insulted my family and cost me, my daughter. Not only that but he has insulted the Stormlands as well. Are we not good enough for his son?” At that many of the lords begin muttering angrily. “Are we not good enough for the Targaryens, those men from across the narrow sea who came with our help and won their throne? Are we not good enough for the egg anymore that he would insult us so?” more angry muttering. “I tell you what, there is no more time for us to deal with this insult. Already my sources are telling me that the king’s second son is growing reticent in his own betrothal and wishes to wed his sister Shaera. I tell you, the Targaryens have lost sight of those who got them to where they are now. We must fight for the one person who values allies. Daemon Blackfyre, the true king.”

At that there is even more muttering before his grandfather, the ancient and feared Lord Galladon Tarth asks. “Is that a wise move my lord? Allying with the Black dragon? Why not simply break away from the Iron Throne and name yourself the Storm King?”

There are murmurs of agreement with that, and for a split second Lyonel considers it and then shakes his head and says. “Because if I were to that grandfather, then the Stormlands would bleed more than it should. Daemon Blackfyre, has the support of Lys and Tyrosh and both their fleets, he is the Blackfyre King  and has the Golden Company and a variety of other sellsword companies behind him. We support him, he gets his throne and we get our revenge.”

Lord Andrew Caron a strong man and Lyonel’s cousin asks. “And what will there be for us if we support the Black Dragon my lord? Another foreigner ruling us from King’s Landing who will never understand the life we lead?”

Lyonel laughs at that and says. “On the contrary my lord. Daemon Blackfyre knows exactly the life we lead here in the Stormlands, he has lived that life since he was born. And we shall most definitely get a royal marriage from it. The King has three children already, Aegon and Gaemon who are two years old and Kiera who is a year old. His daughter will wed my son and heir. And we shall get much more prominence and recognition in his court then we ever got in Aegon the false’s court.”

There is more murmuring at that and then Lord Marcus Swann, his goodson asks. “And what is it you wish for us to do should you decide to support the black dragon?”

Lyonel looks at his goodson and knows the boy hungers for glory and he has just the solution to that. “When we formally announce that we are supporting Daemon Blackfyre, the Dornish will march and try and invade the marches. I want the marcher lords to kill every single Dornishman who sets foot in the Stormlands from now until Daemon Blackfyre sits the Iron Throne unless Daemon Blackfyre says they are his allies. I want the fleet at Tarth to leave the Sapphire Isle and begin raiding along Massey’s Hook and finally I want everyone else ready for when the Blackfyres come.”

There is a large chorus of agreement then and then his grandfather asks. “And what do you wish for us to do with the booty we pick up from the Hook Lord Lyonel?”

Lyonel is silent for a moment looking at his grandfather for a long time before finally responding. “Take it to Tarth and use to ensure your defences are secure. The Iron Throne will send the royal fleet to ensure that we are punished. But I know for a fact they will lose the Tullys and the Tyrells soon enough.”

“How can you be so sure of that my lord? Jaehaerys and Shaera Targaryen do not seem to be like their older brother, they seem to actually know what their duty is.” Lord Dondarrion enquired.

Lyonel looks at the man and smiles once more. “Because their guardians are old friends of mine, friends I recommended to the king. And they have told me that the two are in love with one another, and as such my friends have been whispering in their ears about following their brother’s example. Soon enough they will escape and wed and then the Tullys and the Tyrells will be there for the taking.”

There is more murmuring at that and then Lord Estermont asks. “When will the Blackfyres and their allies be here in Westeros then my lord?”

Lyonel smiled once more and said. “They are already setting sail, by the time Jaehaerys and Shaera escape their guardians they will be at Dragonstone ready and waiting to attack. Daemon Blackfyre will be at Storm’s End by moon’s end.”

Lyonel laughs aloud when two weeks later a raven comes from his friends telling him of disinheriting of Duncan Targaryen and the elopement of Jaehaerys and Shaera Targaryen and their flight to Dragonstone. Oh the sweetness of it all, justice.


	9. Hammer and Tongs

**Seventh Month of 239 A.C. Storm’s End**

**Ser Vaegon Blackfyre**

The past two years since their last invasion of Westeros had passed by in a huge blur. There had been the usual feelings of hurt and anger over yet another failed rebellion and the question over whether or not they would ever succeed in achieving their destiny, Ser Aegor, the man who had raised Vaegon and his siblings had taken to bed ill and they had all feared that they would lose their leader and yet the man had recovered as if spitting in the face of death and they had gone on. Alliances had been shored up with Lys and Tyrosh, through marriage and promises of reward, Vaegon had wed his own daughter Saera to the heir of Aenys Rogare, and their cousin Aerion the Archon of Tyrosh had given his daughter Rohanne as a wife to Bittersteel’s grandson Aegon. Alliances had been made with Pentos, where the Mopatis family held the other magisters in their pockets, gold and swords were given to them and the Dothraki were beaten for a while, Volantis backed them surprisingly, insulted against the growth of the Targaryens and their snubbing of Valyria. At the forefront of this all was their King, Daemon Blackfyre fourth of his name, eldest son of Vaegon’s older brother Aenys. Daemon was a strong warrior, good with a sword and a military genius, a proven battle commander, but without a head for political intrigue. This was why Vaegon was so useful in the councils they held, such as this one.

“Dragonstone has fallen, Jaehaerys and Shaera Targaryen are dead, slain by Maelys and the men under his command. The castellan of Dragonstone bent the knee and acknowledged you as King Your Grace.” Vaegon said.

He knew that his own son Maelys was a monster, born with two heads and an insatiable desire for blood. “In what manner did Maelys destroy the garrison?” The king asks. Vaegon hesitates and the King says. “Tell me truly uncle, I want to know what sort of things I shall be facing when this war truly begins.”

Vaegon sighs and looks at the letter his son had sent, written in all its gruesome detail. “The garrison of Dragonstone were butchered as they fought, they died honourable in battle. As for Jaehaerys and Shaera Targaryen, well Jaehaerys was slain whilst begging for mercy and Shaera was raped and then killed by Maelys.”

All those gathered at the war council shudder, the king though merely stares at Vaegon before saying. “His methods were not nice, but he got the job done. Write back to Maelys and tell him that he is to hold Dragonstone until such time as I tell him to come ashore. Now what news from Aerion?”

Of course the king would be worried for his wife and children. “the Archon writes that Queen Vaella and the children are safe and sound as they can be behind the walls of his mansion, and that the whole of Tyrosh is willing to die for them and for you, before allowing the Targaryens so much as near them.”

The king nods and then turns to Bittersteel who looks tired and worn but still ready for a fight. “How ready are our men for battle Ser Aegor? Will they be ready to move soon?”

“They will indeed be ready Your Grace. The men hunger for the war that is coming and the glory and the praise that will come. As well as for the chance to shed blood, Targaryen blood.” Bittersteel replies.

The king nods and then turns to Lord Lyonel. “My lord, what news have you had from your goodson on the marches? How goes his progress?”

Lord Lyonel Baratheon is a great swaggering giant of a man, and the king’s most ardent supporter. He takes a sip of wine and then says. “Lord Marcus has written to say the all is going according to plan against the Dornish lords. Lord Blackmont and Manwoody have both been slain and Lords Dayne and Fowler are hesitating in calling for more men. Soon enough we shall have broken the northern Dornish lords. And the Martells shall be forced to come into open battle.”

The king nods and then turns to Vaegon and asks him. “And what news from the Reach? I know Lord Gareth Tyrell has declared for me, but I want to know what fighting has gone on there so far, and what houses have declared for whom.”

Vaegon nods and says. “There has been fighting near the Mander, the Florents and their sworn bannermen have come up against the Tyrells themselves and Lord Desmond Florent was slain and his heir has fled back to Brightwater Keep, whilst Lord Tyrell marched to join with Lord Tarly and Lord Rowan. The Fossoways are fighting each other, and the Ashfords and the Merryweathers fight one another. All in all there is chaos growing in the Reach, the Hightowers remain aloof in their tower and the gates of Oldtown are closed.”

The King nods and then turns to Lord Lyonel and says. “My lord when the Dornish are broken I want you to send your goodson and his men to aid the Tyrells in the Reach. The Florents will no doubt fight on for the Targaryens hoping to gain Highgarden, they cannot be allowed to do so.”

Lord Lyonel nods and Vaegon asks. “What of Prince Daeron Targaryen, Your Grace? The boy is a squire for Lord Gareth Tyrell, what is there to say that should Prince Duncan die in battle, the man will not simply declare for him?”

The king smiles then and it is Bittersteel who speaks. “Because the man has a smart head on his shoulders. He knows that once the fighting in the Reach is done there will be no more force left to muster behind Daeron Targaryen. And besides the lad is just a boy, his older brother still lives and then there is his sister and the boy Maegor in the Vale. So long as these live, Daeron Targaryen will be ignored, and that we can use to our advantage, we need merely remind Tyrell what we have on him.”

Vaegon nods understanding, though Lord Lyonel speaks then clearly confused. “And what exactly is that?”

Vaegon speaks then, so that the king won’t have to. “Lord Gareth has been accepting bribes, huge sums of money from the Iron Bank and certain others so that they can charge extortionate prices to the rest of Westeros for their services, using the Tyrells as a bait. Furthermore, Tyrell killed his own brother to get to the heirship of Highgarden in a duel many years ago, that one of my spies witnessed. No one knows of this but him and me, and if this gets out he will be done.”

Lord Lyonel nods and then asks. “SO he is fighting for you, so as to make sure his secret does not get out? As much as to get revenge for the broken betrothal?”

The king nods and says. “Yes, yes he is. And it will serve us well. Now Lord Lyonel what can you tell us about the different great houses and who they might fight for?”

Lord Lyonel nods and then says. “Well I can tell you for one thing. Gerold Lannister will continue fighting for Aegon Targaryen even if he has nothing left to live for. Aegon Targaryen stuck up for the man when his own father wanted him gone for some crime or the other, and for that Gerold Lannister has remained ever loyal to the man. His son Tywald died fighting in the fourth Blackfyre rebellion, his son Tion died trying to find Prince Duncan when he was rescued by that whore. The man’s third son Tytos is a weakling though, he has no steel and the Reynes are angry about being slighted, they will be very useful in taking down the Lannisters.”

The king nods and then asks. “And what of the Tullys? What will they do?”

Lord Lyonel is silent a moment and then responds. “Lord Oscar Tully is a proud man who holds more to the honour part of his family words than the family or the duty. The broken betrothal with Jaehaerys Targaryen and his daughter Celia, will have hurt his honour and his pride. And he will be furious about that, and the fact that he cannot get anything from Aegon Targaryen because of it, means he will be more than willing to fight for you. Though he might need some proving that you are a worthy contender. Battles must be fought Your Grace.”

The king nods and says simply. “They shall be. And what of the Arryns? They hold Maegor Targaryen in their hands. Will they fight for the boy, or for Aegon Targaryen?”

Lord Lyonel is stumped for a moment and even Vaegon does not know this one, he could have told the king the information about the Lannisters and the Tullys. But the Arryns the evade even him. Lord Lyonel eventually speaks. “They are bound to serve Aegon Targaryen, their honour dictates it though should Aegon and his line die then they will serve Maegor Targaryen, after all the boy has Arryn blood in him and they want an Arryn on the throne no matter what.”

The king nods and then asks. “And what of the Greyjoys? Will they remain neutral?”

Lord Lyonel nods his head. “Aye they will wait for the chaos this war will create before moving to take the spoils they believe they need. They will declare for no one, and I would not be surprised if they declared themselves independent.”

The king nods and then asks. “And the Starks, will they be swayed to join us against the Targaryens?”

“No they will not do anything. The Starks want nothing to do with the south and never will. Unless Edwyle Stark overrules his uncle and regent, then there will be no movement from them. As for Dorne the Martells will fight for the Targaryens till the bitter end as will the Yronwoods, they have a staked interest in it.” Lord Baratheon says.

The king nods and then says. “Thank you for that. We shall ride out for battle in three days time, the Riverlands must needs know that their rightful king is here and he will fight to prove to them he is the one they need.”

With that the meeting comes to an end though much later, Vaegon is sat in the king’s room with Bittersteel present as well. “Why did you go about asking Baratheon all of those questions your grace? We already know the answer to those questions, Lannister and Arryn will fight for Targaryen their bannermen as well. Tyrell and Tully will face opposition.”

The king is silent, and it is left to Vaegon to respond. “You were testing him were you not Your Grace? Seeing if his reports would match ours? Seeing if he truly had abandoned the Red Dragon?”

The king nods. “Aye, we have been betrayed far too many times before to allow such an opportunity to go unquestioned. Baratheon was a staunch supporter of Aegon Targaryen for many years, this one broken betrothal would not send him into such a rage. I needed to know why he was so angry and willing to support us.”

“And?” Bittersteel asks never one of much patience. “Did you learn what you needed to?”

The king nods. “Baratheon’s anger is genuine. He truly has forsaken the Targaryens for good and for all. That his lords are so willing to fight for us is proof of that. We must now prepare for the great beginnings of the war.”

“I shall send word out to Aerion and ask him to ready the Tyroshi fleet.” Vaegon says.

The king nods and then says. “You shall also be paying a visit to Riverrun, with an escort under the guise of merchant. Convince Lord Oscar to fight for us, or kill him. Either way the Riverlords shall fight for us.”


	10. A Dying God Come Into Human Flesh

**Ninth Month of 239 A.C. Oxcross**

**Lord Gerold Lannister**

War was upon Westeros once more, the Black Dragon had come from the east to try and claim what he thought was his. Normally, Gerold would not be worried about that, the Blackfyres had instigated four previous rebellions and lost all of them, but this time, the Black Dragon had managed to bring about the support of three of the great houses, Baratheon, Tully and Tyrell all had declared for the Blackfyres due to the King’s children spurning their marriage commitments. Jaehaerys and Shaera Targaryen both sweet children were dead now, murdered by Maelys Blackfyre at Dragonstone. The realm was divided as it had not been since the first Blackfyre rebellion, and perhaps even the Dance of Dragons. Even in the Westerlands things were not as unified as they could have been, Lord Roger Reyne and Lord Walderan Tarbeck had declared for the Black Dragon and with them had gone the Crakehalls, the Kayces, the Braxs and House Lydden they had amassed a sizeable host under the command of Roger Reyne at Lion Mount and were heading towards the Rock. Gerold was worried, his twins Tywald and Tion both militarily sound and good with swords were long dead, Tywald during the fourth Blackfyre rebellion, Tion trying to save Prince Duncan from bandits. His two remaining sons, Tytos was weak, not a fight and plump, bringing him had been a mistake, as for Jason, the lad was but a boy, and perhaps not ready for war.

Still there was work to be done and so Gerold spoke first. “My lords, the traitors have amassed a sizeable host, some 15,000 strong. No doubt hoping to bring about a swift end to our own host and try and take the Rock. And yet, they are made of houses that have traditionally hated one another. That we can use to our advantage. Lord Banefort, what news have your scouts and spies managed to bring?”

Lord Andrew Banefort was a big man, strong and fierce, a proven warrior. He was silent a moment and then said. “My scouts report that as you have said my lord, 15,000 men march under the Red Lion Banner of the Reynes and the Black Dragon of House Blackfyre. Lord Roger Reyne has given himself command over the centre, Lord Walderan Tarbeck has take command of the reserve, and Ser Ryan Hill the bastard of Crakehall has command over the van, and Lords Brax and Kenning hold the left and right respectively. As for what my spies have told me, there are quarrels already raging between the rebel alliance. Some wish to attack down from the mount, whilst others wish to hit from the centre and then wheel round and break us on the rocks.”

Gerold nods. “And do your spies say what Lord Roger has done about this? Has he done anything to quell the tension or has he let it fester?”

Lord Banefort was silent a moment and then said. “As far as my men have been able to gauge, he has done nothing. He was overheard telling his brother that perhaps this anger and aggression would give his men the impetuous they need to break our own host.”

Gerold laughed then and said. “That means he knows not how to end the tension in his own ranks. That is good, very good.”

Lord Farman spoke then his voice holding the questioning tone to it. “How do you know that, that is why Lord Reyne has said what he said?”

Gerold was silent for a moment considering how best to answer that question before deciding to state the truth. “The lad squired for me when he was young. Whilst he was a squire, I noted that whenever he would come across a problem he could not solve with his sword or his fists, he avoided it like the plague, hoping it would disappear and go away. That is what he is doing here, if he had any sense he would send his brother out to talk to the men and settle the anger there and then. But he will not, and that is why he will lose this.”

There was some murmuring at that, and then Lord Marbrand asked. “And what of his brother? His brother will surely pick up the work as he always has when Roger Reyne has been lacking and will work to end all the tension that is there?”

Gerold was silent for a moment, considering what to say to this question and then he said. “Reynard Reyne will most likely consider doing just that, but unless his brother says so then nothing will happen. We shall have to wait and see for that. For the moment we must discuss our own dispositions.”

There was a lot of murmurs of agreement at that and then Lord Viserys Plumm, old and grey but still proud and strong said. “Our own numbers stand at some 17,000 men. We are ready and waiting for your orders my lord. Personally I would attack the rebels from the left and right sides of the mount and then wheel round and hit them from the rear and centre.”

“So do to them what they would do to us.” Gerold says pondering this. “Hmm that sounds as if it might just work. They would be expecting us to be defensive and not so nearly determined to bring them down with aggression. Very well then. Lord Viserys you shall command the reserve, bring them up when the charge comes to our side of Mount. Lord Banefort you shall lead the left and lead the initial foray into battle. Lord Marbrand you shall command the right and attack their host from the right and then flank them. I shall command the centre and follow through on the initial thrust through.” He hesitates for a moment debating whom to name as commander of the van, and then he says. “Ser Davos, you shall command the van. Lead round the passes that we pointed out on our way here and hit them from the rear once the left has brought itself into action.”

The lords all nod and then Tytos speaks for the first time. “What news has there been of the war in the riverlands?”

Gerold is surprised his son and new heir is showing so much interest, as far as Gerold can tell since they have been on the march the boy has been pining after his own wife. Lord Banefort also looks surprised but nonetheless says. “From what my sources have been able to gather from Lord Lefford’s covert messages is that the Riverlands are burning. Lord Oscar Tully declared for Daemon Blackfyre and along with him the Brackens, Pipers, Mallisters and the Vances both of the branches as well as a score of lesser houses all declared for the black dragon. Meanwhile Lord David Blackwood declared for King Aegon and with him came the Darrys, Mootons, Charltons and the Goodbrooks and Whents. A score of lesser battles have been fought in the Riverlands and mainly the rebels seem to be having the best of it all. Though King Aegon has finally stirred from King’s Landing and has marched with a host some 10,000 strong and the Pretender also has marched from Storm’s End. There will be a big battle there soon enough, if it has not already happened.”

Gerold sighs at that. “As always the Riverlands burns when such wars are fought. Very well, there is not much more that can be done for the others now. We must concentrate on ensuring that we come away from this battle victorious and once we do, I shall deal with the rebels and we can then march on aiding the King.”

All seem ready to move but then Tytos asks once more. “And what of the Vale? What are they doing, and how does Lord Lefford learn so much about what is happening outside when he is tied off away from most anything?”

Gerold sighs feeling his impatience rise, when Lord Banefort responds. “I know not my lord. All I know is that Lord Lefford is doing his hardest to ensure the rebels do not get too much power or allies through the pass.”

“Very well then we can debate all of this once this battle is done.” Gerold says. “We have a battle to fight and win.” With that the council meeting comes to an end, but before Tytos walks off, Gerold grabs his son’s arm and says to him. “Never again question one of your future bannermen so openly in a war council. We are divided as a people right now, our allies are essential.” His son nods fearfully, Gerold sighs and lets his son go. Tywald and Tion would have fought back.

Still he shakes his head and prepares for the battle, armoured and ready for combat, he says a quick prayer to the warrior and then asks that should this go wrong, he meet Rohanne and his golden twins in the afterlife. Dressed head to foot in red armour, he mounts his horse and waits for the battle to begin. Soon enough the left is seen wheeling through powering through, and then a few moments later the right, Gerold holds his hand up holding his own men back and then when he hears a scream that pushes his nerve over and he roars. “WE FIGHT MEN. For CASTERLY ROCK, FOR KING AEGON WE FIGHT!” He spurs his horse on and then there they are in the throngs of battle, he and his men crash into the throngs of the rebels, the red lion of the Reynes flying high. Gerold swings his sword, once, then twice bringing down men as he goes. On he goes, swinging and hacking, cutting and hacking men down one by one, powering through as he goes on.

Bodies begin piling up around him, his adrenaline speeds him on his way, hacking and slashing as the men around him become mere blurs, their faces lost to the vision in his eyes. Glory and honour, and Rohanne, there waiting for him her arms outstretched, beckoning him to her. He feels the dull thud of something, and looks down to see an arrow protruding out of his armour, then another, and still he rides on. Killing as he rides, he feels the weight of his armour, and of the blood flowing out of him, somehow he manages to bring his sword up and bring it down again to kill those who stand in his way. His sword is red with blood, covered in it, and the bodies continue to pile up and on and on and on and on. He cannot see properly anymore, lost as he is in a daze of blood, fighting and adrenaline, and yet he still manages to raise his sword and hack away at the foe.

Another arrow hits him this time just above his heart, and the world begins losing its colour, still he rides on hacking and slashing away at the men that come before him regardless of their banners or their purpose. He can see Rohanne beckoning to him and he urges his horse towards her, it has been so long since he saw her, when she disappeared without word or explanation. He hacks away at the foes in his way to her, another arrow hits him. Blood is pouring out of Gerold Lannister now, creating a little stream, but still he fights on riding like a man possessed towards his wife, her name is on her lips when another arrow finally brings him down. And yet he does not die, not then.

No Lord Roger Reyne, the Red Lion does not see fit to have Gerold Lannister die in battle, instead once the lords fighting for Gerold surrender after seeing their lord and his heir captured, he sends his maester to tend the man, and once he is lucid enough to speak he goes to him. “Ah Lord Gerold Lannister, Gerold the Golden so nice to see you again.” Roger says mockingly.

“What, what do you want Roger? Why not just let me die on the battlefield?” Gerold asks.

His former squire laughs at that and says. “Oh no I wanted the pleasure of killing you myself. For the insult done to my family, you shall die and your sons shall suffer for it.” Reyne draws a knife.

“Roger think of what you are about to do. This is without honour.” Gerold says, tiredly.

His former squire laughs then and says. “Without honour? Bah, what would Gerold the Golden know about that. You killed your brother and niece to get to where you are. And now I shall kill you.” With that he says nothing more and plunges the dagger into Gerold’s chest, and as the blood pours out of him, and as his vision goes blurry, Gerold swears he sees Rohanne there beckoning him.


	11. Black Hand Inn

**1 st Month of 240 A.C. Western Bank of the God’s Eye.**

**Prince Duncan Targaryen**

They had been at war for nearly a year now, the Blackfyres had invaded Westeros once more and this time, it seemed they had forsaken all measures of chivalry and honour that they supposedly stood for, when Maelys the Monstrous and his men sacked Dragonstone, killed Duncan’s brother Jaehaerys and killed and raped his sister Shaera. Their deaths grieved Duncan and angered him at the same time. Whilst he understood that Jaehaerys could have posed a threat and he hated himself for thinking that of his younger brother, Shaera was sweet and kind and innocent, she could have survived. But no, they were both dead and Duncan could not help but feel partially responsible for their deaths, for it had been his actions in breaking his betrothal to Lord Lyonel’s daughter that had caused the Laughing Storm to break ties with House Targaryen and bring the Blackfyres the great house support that they so badly wanted. Duncan’s own actions had encouraged Jaehaerys and Shaera to do the same and now they had lost three of the great houses and war was running through Westeros.

The war council that he was at now was a bleak one, it seemed the lords and his own father King Aegon knew or at least sensed defeat was on the cards. His father spoke then. “We all know why we are here. The Blackfyres are threatening King’s Landing now, and are looking poised to do what they have not been able to do since Redgrass. We cannot allow them the chance to get to King’s Landing, for once they do then there will be all kinds of chaos and destruction. Lord Celtigar what news do you have on their numbers and movements?”

Lord Adros Celtigar the new hand of the king after Lord Gerold’s death spoke then. “The men of the Stormlands are now fully behind the pretender, they have stopped their fighting with the Dornish lords, and have marched to join the pretender on the eastern bank. They number some 8,000 men. The Golden Company that fights under the command of Ser Aegor Rivers stands at 7,000 men and then there are the forces that Lord Oscar Tully has brought to the table, they stand at some 5,000 men. Thus putting the rebel host at 20,000 strong or there abouts. From what my scouts have been able to tell me, it appears that the pretender has given command of the left to Lord Lyonel Baratheon and the Stormlanders might very well be the ones charging over the banks of the river in a first wave assault. Other than that details are sketchy.”

That was grim news indeed, the lords of the crownlands had only been able to muster 10,000 men and they were still waiting for news as to what the state of the forces Lord Jasper Arryn had mustered would be. The man was marching down from the River Road now, but whether he would be able to reach the battle in time was a pressing matter. Lord Jon Darry who had remained loyal through thick and thin spoke then. “It matters not Your Grace. Lord Lyonel Baratheon is known as all members of his house are known, he is a hot head who will likely wish to cover himself in glory and try and personally see to it that any insult he feels House Targaryen has dealt him is personally avenged. That will mean he will likely bring his own men into danger that could be used against him.”

Duncan looked at his father and could tell that the king was troubled by the thought of fighting his former friend and yet he still asked. “And what methods would you suggest to achieve this Lord Jon?”

Darry was a proud man, strong and tall and he spoke with a confidence that Duncan did not feel. “We set our archers out on the northern bank of the stream, and have them prepare for when Baratheon leads the charge which he will. The minute the Baratheon banners are seen, we tell the archers to lose all hell on them. Baratheon will die and his heir might be captured in the process. The Stormlords will be in chaos.”

Duncan had to admit the plan had some merit but still there was a nagging doubt, one which it seemed his father shared. “And what if Baratheon decides to give the main command to someone else? Lord Tarth for example. It would not surprise me, Lord Lyonel has cunning and he will suspect we might try something like this.”

Lord Darry it seemed would not be cowed though and ploughed on. “Then if Baratheon changes command, if he is craven enough to do that, then we alter the plan. Have the archers aim for the left flank and have them aim until they see the Baratheon banner fall, and then have them move about until they are facing the right and proceed from there.”

At this Duncan spoke his voice questioning. “And why would they go for the right? If you mean to suggest the pretender will be there then I suggest you look again. The man will be leading the main body of the assault.”

At this Lord Celtigar looks at him and asks. “What makes you so sure of that my prince? Daemon Blackfyre, is the man these rebels have named as their king. What makes you so sure they would be willing to let him lead in such a difficult position?”

Duncan is silent a moment and then he says. “Because that is what Daemon Blackfyre would do. He is a born soldier, according to what we know, he will not accept any other role. He will fight and die by the sword, and if that is the case then he will be in the position that will get him the most danger.”

His grandfather Lord Seth Blackwood spoke then. “Prince Duncan is right. There is no point in trying to act otherwise. The vanguard of the enemy host will be commanded by the pretender, and it is there that we must turn most of our attention. Baratheon can be dealt with later, this battle must be won quickly and smoothly, and it will be won in the van.”

There were murmurs of agreement there and then his father asked. “Very well then my lords. Who do you suggest commands the vanguard then?”

There were many clamours of hope, lords seeking to win glory during this final battle, but eventually Lord Casper Bar Emmon spoke and his voice quietened all others. “I believe that Prince Duncan should lead the vanguard Your Grace. The Prince is a proven warrior and commander, and he knows better than anyone some of what the pretender will try and throw at us. It is high time we matched the rebels with our own skill and tactics.”

To his surprise Lord Marshall Darklyn, no friend of his spoke up in agreement. “I too believe Prince Duncan should lead the vanguard. He is the future of House Targaryen Your Grace, it will do the men good to see him leading them in danger.”

The other lords spoke up in agreement and eventually his father raised a hand for silence and then said. “So it is settled, Prince Duncan shall lead the vanguard. As to the left, that command I shall give to you Lord Darklyn, station your men on the left bank of the western stream of the God’s Eye and ready your archers for the fall of the Baratheons. The right shall go to Lord Jasper Massey, bring your men into a spear formation and have them fan out once the van hits the walls. I shall command the reserve.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and then the lords were dismissed but before Duncan got up and left his father spoke softly, so softly that he had to strain hear what was said. “Be careful out there son. Do not do anything too foolish, we cannot lose you now, not with your brother a prisoner.” Duncan nods and then walks out of the tent.

Later when he is armoured and mounted, Ser Osric Royce and Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard next to him he counts to seven and says a quick prayer before nodding to Ser Osric, and once the horn is blow he draws his sword and rides out to battle. As he thought the three headed black dragon of the pretender is flapping on the other side of the ridge, the pretender is commanding the van, Duncan feels his tension sore, but then soon enough he loses himself in the flow of battle. Swinging his sword left, right and centre, he cuts through members of the Golden Company one after the other, cutting and swinging his sword, hacking, ducking and dodging, men fall around him and still he rides on.

On the battle went, Duncan cut through three men one after the other, taking nicks and cuts as he went, but ploughing through them nonetheless, for a moment he wondered if the Golden Company had lost whatever reputation it had earned all those years ago. And then he saw Ser Aegor Rivers, Bittersteel the man was called, old he was, but he was mighty fine with a sword. Duncan watched hypnotized as the man cut through one, then two, then three, then four of the men fighting under Duncan, as if they were nothing more than rag dolls. The old knight spotted him and roared cutting through more men to get to him, as he got nearer Duncan snapped out of his own reverie and began preparing for the fight to come. Only to see Ser Jonothor Darry step forward, the knight swung his sword and then Duncan moved on. When he turned round later, Bittersteel was gone and Ser Jonothor was dead.

Shaken Duncan pushes that thought from his mind and turns to find himself face to face with a man with a dragon’s helm on his head and two of his own white knights surrounding him. The pretender and he are to face off once more, they do not waste time with pleasantries, and instead they instantly begin locking horns. The pretender wields Blackfyre, Duncan a sword found in the vaults of the Red Keep named Truth, they hack and slash at one another, sometimes drawing blood or denting the other’s armour, but most times the sound of steel on steel is heard. Since, the last time they met, Duncan has gotten better, no longer a squire he knows how to read the movements of men, but this pretender is good, almost too good, he swings and feints and Duncan finds himself, often just managing to bring his sword up in time to block one blow after another. The times when he is not quick enough leave his armour dented and blood pouring from a dozen wounds.

The fighting continued, Duncan swung his sword again and again, sometimes connecting with the pretender’s armour, other times only meeting the man’s sword to see the sparks fly and to hear the screech of steel on steel. The pretender managed to get more luck onto him, cutting him deep and far, his armour was covered in dents and it was no longer blue but red, of that much Duncan could tell. The world was growing smaller and smaller, and still he managed to lift his sword and try and fight, until he couldn’t any more, Truth clattered to the ground as Duncan began to slump in his saddle, and still the Blackfyre continued hacking away at him. One blow then another rained down on Duncan and he soon lost all feeling in his body, he began losing control of whether or not he wished to remain on his saddle, and then his head connected with the ground followed by his body. And then the world went black, Duncan Targaryen Prince of Dragonflies died slain by Daemon IV Blackfyre during the battle of the God’s Eye.


	12. Hell To The Heavens

**Third Month of 240 A.C. Marching towards King’s Landing**

**Ser Aegor Rivers**

The battle of the God’s Eye had been the final nail in the coffin for the Targaryens. King Daemon had slain Duncan Targaryen, that man who the commons named the Prince of Dragonflies, and when word spread of the man’s death the Targaryen vanguard broke, only to be slaughtered by the left commanded by Lord Lyonel Baratheon. All around them the Targaryens and their forces were being put to rout, Aegor had even come into contact with the false king Aegon the fortunate, duelling him and wounding him, the man had been saved by his Kingsguard. Ser Robert Flowers and Ser Serwyn of the Mirror Shield both good knights and men had died on the edge of Aegor’s blade before the fortunate King had fled the battle like a craven. The Targaryen host had fled then and the corpses of their dead had flooded the God’s Eye, victory they were so close to King’s Landing now, that the winter truly angered Aegor, he was desperate to get to King’s Landing and soon, he often did wonder if he’d get to see Shiera as well.

Of course the weather had abated somewhat that the king had now decreed it appropriate to discuss the taking of King’s Landing and so he had called a meeting to discuss what was to be done. The king looked glorious in his black battle armour his dragon’s head helm close by him, two knights of the Kingsguard who had served as Kingsguard over in Essos Ser Gormon Peake and Ser Davos Redtusk the descendant of Redtusk himself stood in the shadows. The king spoke then and all fell silent. “We are so close now my lords. King’s Landing is within sight. The Targaryen king has fled back to the city like a craven, his lords are quickly deserting him and joining our ranks. We must take King’s Landing and we must take it now before the snows come.”

There were murmurs of agreement and then Vaegon spoke. “My spies report that there has been words of discontentment between the Targaryen king and his new hand. It appears Lord Stokeworth wishes to take the attack to us here in the Kingswood whilst the King wishes to use the walls of King’s Landing as protection. My men within the City watch assure me that should we decide to take King’s Landing without a battle, they can have the gates to the city opened and ready for us.”

There were some murmurs there and then Lord Lyonel spoke and asked. “What of the rest of the city watch though? The Commander there is a man loyal to King Aegon, and King Aegon alone, the man’s goodbrother if I remember correctly, he is not like to stand by and just allow us to waltz into King’s Landing or the Red Keep one way or another there will be battle.”

Aegor’s own son Daemon spoke then. “What of it? If there is battle there is battle. Not much more can be done for that. Or have you gotten scared in your old age Lord Baratheon?”

His youngest son’s words made Aegor cringe but the Laughing Storm merely laughed and said. “No young Ser I have not gotten scared. I merely ask, because there are still troubles elsewhere in the realm that his grace shall need to deal with once King’s Landing has fallen. And it would not be wise to expend all of our resources on the taking of the city, if bloodshed can largely be avoided.”

There was sense in what the man said and thankfully Vaegon spoke then. “Aye, my sources within the city watch assure me that they will be able to deal with the commander of the watch and his cronies. We shall have the gates opened to us one way or another.”

The king is about to speak when a squire enters the tent, bows and then hands the king a letter, which he reads quickly and then laughs. “It seems that Stokeworth won out over the king. The man has named Aerion the mad’s son his heir and has declared that they shall be riding out to face us. Some 4,000 men under the command of Lord Stokeworth himself. It appears that you wounded the king so badly he cannot sit a horse Ser Aegor.”

Others in the tent laugh, Aegor merely nods and then asks. “So what will be the position of our army in this Your Grace?”

The king is silent for a long moment considering this and then he responds. “I shall command the vanguard as is my right. Ser Aegor shall command the right. Lord Lyonel the left once more, Lord Oscar the centre and Uncle Vaegon you shall command the reserve. We shall use the same tactics that won us the God’s Eye, but this time, Ser Aegor I want you to wheel around and cut through the forest and take Stokeworth’s host in the rear. Kill all those who come in your way, none shall know of our way into the city.”

The men all nod and leave apart from Aegor who remains behind at the king’s request. There is a long moment of silence, and then the king speaks. “When this day is through and I sit the Iron Throne I shall not forger the service you have done for my family Uncle. You and yours shall be rewarded and justly seen to. And in case I die today, but we win the throne see to it that Aegon is securely sat on the throne and Maelys is kept far away.”

Aegor nods and then says. “But you will not die today Your Grace. We have come too far now for you to die today or tonight. Yours will be a long reign, and will see Westeros reach a new era of glory. I will say this now so that it does not come up again, this will be my last campaign fighting to put one of the family on the throne. I am old now, and wish to die here in Westeros. If I die, intern my ashes on Dragonstone, I do not want nor will I retreat again. This is my last stand.”

The king is silent for a moment and then he nods and the two of them embrace. “Thank you for everything uncle.” The king whispers and then Aegor leaves the tent and prepares for battle.

Later once all is said and done, Aegor finds himself leading his men through the darkness that is the Kingswood and he finds himself reminiscing about times spent here as a child, before shaking his head. When they come to a clearing and he can quite clearly hear the sounds of battle he raises his hand and calls a halt to the march of his men. He counts down, one, two, three, a scream and a roar, four, five, six, a massive smash of trees and then the roars of “Black Dragon!” Seven, he raises his sword high into the air and then the right of the Blackfyre host enters the battle. Aegor leading the charge, swinging and hacking away at the men in his path like a madman, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking.

He swung his sword, left, right and centre, and brought more and more men down as he went. He took a few blows but none of these green boys could match the strength of what he was doing, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking cutting men down, left right and centre, he felt his blood sing and he roared his defiance for the whole world to here. Slowly but surely the men fighting for the Targaryens lessened as some dropped their swords and bent their knees, most were killed and Aegor smiled for once as he sensed victory within his grasp, and then the sounds of horns being blown reached him as did the sight of the falcon banners. So the Arryns had come. It mattered not, the bloodlust was on him now, and Aegor welcomed these new foes cutting them down to size as they rode towards him, all the while keeping one eye on the King who was cutting more and more men down to size.

The Valemen proved to be a tougher challenge than the meagre host that Alyn Stokeworth had assembled, Aegor passes by Stokeworth’s body as he rides through the Valemen cutting them down, left, right and centre the Valemen die by his sword and he roars his challenge to all and sundry. The challenge is answered by the Lord of the Vale, Jasper Arryn a capable warrior and good commander the man rides out and gives Aegor a run for his money, swinging his sword left and right, Aegor takes a fair few nicks but manages to block a fair few blows as well. He might be old, but he still has a good enough eye for things like these. He swings his sword and connects with Arryn’s armour denting it in several places.

Feints and blocks, these become part of their dance as they move round the corpse strewn Kingswood advancing ever closer towards the walls of the Red Keep. Aegor feels his armour get nicked and sees blood begin pouring out of the cut, but he pushes on regardless attacking Arryn with a series of barrages that leave the man cut and bloodied. Aegor roars once more and resumes his attack, swinging, blocking, ducking, dodging, hacking and swinging. He batters away at Jasper Arryn until the man is a bloody mess, his armour in tatters and ruins, and then he stops to take a breath feeling his arms beginning to ache. That is when the much younger Jasper Arryn begins beating away at him, getting in several good blows to Aegor’s ribs and arms, but the man expends his energy. Sensing victory over the man, Aegor pushes harder swinging his sword once, then twice and finally burying it deep within Jasper Arryn’s chest.

The men of the Vale were torn briefly between fleeing and continuing the fighting but then one Lord Robar Royce continued the fight leading the charge most valiantly, breaking against the shield walls of the left and the centre five times before deciding to turn tail and run. The king decided not to chase after the man, and instead commanded that Aegor and the right break through King’s Landing’s gates. There was little need for that as Aegor found the gates, the dragon gate and the lion gate were opened and once inside Aegor and his men killed those blocking the other gates and allowed the army to filter in. They then roared for the Targaryens and rode for the Red Keep, cutting down the men and sometimes even women who got in their way in their frantic pursuit to get to the Red Keep.

Later Aegor will not remember much of the next few hours as he rides for the Red Keep killing men of the city watch and the members of the Kingsguard who come in his way, all he will remember is entering the throne room and seeing his king sat atop the Iron Throne looking as regal as Aegon the Dragon. Whilst below him at the foot of the throne, Aegon the fortunate lies on the ground, blood pooling around him, his throat slit. Aegor gets to one knee and formally pledges himself to King Daemon Blackfyre, fourth of his name, as do many others over the course of the next week. There is still fighting in the realm, but when the High Septon crowns the King with the crown of King Aegon the Dragonbane and King Viserys II in the Great Sept of Baelor, and the crowds roar their approval Aegor cannot but help thinking that his life’s work is finally done. When he dies, and he knows it will be soon he can finally look his brother in the eye and say that one of his blood now sits the throne that is rightfully theirs.

Of course there is still trouble in the realm and so when the King, now formally anointed and recognised as King Daemon Blackfyre first of his name calls a meeting of his war time commanders Aegor wonders what decisions his king has reached. Prince Vaegon, now the master of whispers reads out the reports of the fighting still raging. “Lyman Lannister of the Lannisport branch of the house continues to lead the fighting for the Targaryens now fighting for Maegor Targaryen.  There have been a few close calls but it does seem as if one big fight will wipe out the Targaryen loyalists in the West. The Reach is a smouldering ruin, Lord Gareth Tyrell continues facing opposition from the Florents and a score of their supporters and now it does seem as if the man might die as might his heir. The Riverlands are damaged but their lords have done you fealty, the north has also sent word that they will be coming to pledge fealty in person. Dorne remains belligerent, Prince Mors Martell is mustering men to assault the Stormlands. As for the Vale, Jon Arryn has ordered the passes sealed and Gulltown closed off.”

The king nods and then says. “I shall tend to the Reach that is the most pressing concern and must be dealt with by myself. Uncle Vaegon, you shall go to the Vale, take the Royal fleet and break the Arryn fleet. End the resistance or kill Maegor Targaryen or both. Maelys you shall command a host and head to the Westerlands Lord Oscar shall join you. Defeat the Lannisters and strip them of their lordly rank. That is my command. Lord Lyonel take your men and break the Dornish, take hostages and kill their lords. Nuncle Aegor, you shall remain in King’s Landing and act as my hand and ensure my hold over this city is secure.”


	13. Bright Eyes

**Sixth Month of 240 A.C. The Reach**

**King Daemon I Blackfyre**

He was king, finally after years of heart ache and dreaming of it, his family finally held the Iron Throne that had rightfully been theirs from the day Aegon IV died. It had been a long and bloody process to obtaining the throne, Daemon had never known his grandfather and many of his uncles had died fighting for the cause. Now though, now all of their hard work and his had paid off and he was king. The moment he had killed Aegon the Fortunate and ascended the steps of the Iron Throne he had felt as if his life’s dream had been accomplished. A feeling that had been further reinforced when the High Septon had placed the crown of his great- great grandfather Aegon the Dragonbane on his head and declared him the rightful and true king of Westeros. His first action as king had been to name his father, cousin, uncles and grandfather as the former Princes of Dragonstone, and then he had named the Targaryens formal traitors and had had them attainted and stripped of their rights to the throne. He had formally announced the betrothal of his eldest son and heir Aegon’s betrothal to Rhaelle Targaryen the youngest child and surviving daughter of Aegon the Fortunate. All this had been done in a matter of weeks, but there was still fighting within the kingdoms as the Targaryen loyalists fought long and hard in the Westerlands, the Vale and Dorne as well as the Reach. Daeron Targaryen the only surviving son of Aegon the Fortunate was in the Reach and that was why Daemon had decided to bring some 4,000 men with him to deal with the rebel reacherlords.

It was Lords Rowan, Tarly and Costayne who greeted him as he arrived at the Barge. They all bowed before him and once he had bidden them rise he spoke. “My lords, I thank you for coming. Though I must wonder where is Lord Tyrell and his heir? And what is the state of the war here?”

It was Lord Sam Tarly who spoke first. “Welcome to the Reach Your Grace. Lord Gareth Tyrell was slain in battle by Ser Aubrey Ambrose, as for his son and heir Lord Luthor was taken prisoner by the Florents and is currently rotting in a cell in Brighwater Keep.”

Daemon nodded and then asked. “So how has the war progressed here in the Reach?”

Lord Costayne spoke then. “Well Your Grace, at first we were doing quite well. At Bitterbridge we deal the Targaryen forces a severe blow, and then again at Garden’s Point we broke the hosts of Ambrose and Oldflowers but then the Florents managed to convince the Hightowers to join them, and we were dealt severe blows at the Mander and in the Shield Islands. It was at Summerfield that we were broken and forced to retreat once Lord Gareth was slain and his heir captured.”

Daemon nodded these were grim tidings indeed. “And where are the Florents and their allies now? Are they still prowling the Reach or have they retreated back to their castle?”

It was Lord Sam who answered. “They have retreated back to their keep. The Hightowers broke from the main host of the Targaryen loyalists once Lord Jon Hightower and his heir Ser Garth were slain, Lord Mern Hightower is a much more practical man and as such has closed the gates of Oldtown to all and sundry.”

Daemon nodded. “The Hightowers for now are not a concern. What is a concern to me, is who are the houses fighting alongside the Florents, who remain present in Brightwater Keep?”

It was Lord Devon Rowan who answered, if Daemon recalled correctly the man had been wed to Rhae Targaryen. “Houses Ambrose, Appleton, Cockshaw and Meadows all retreated back to Brightwater Keep. Whatever other houses sided with the Florents threw down their swords and bent the knee when word came of your victory at the God’s Eye Your Grace.”

 Daemon nods and then asks. “These Lords who remain with the Florents what are they like? Will they be willing to surrender peacefully without much bother once they know that I have come or will they continue fighting?”

Lord Costayne answered. “Lords Ambrose and Appleton will continue fighting no matter what. They believe that they can get more from supporting the Florents then they could get from supporting their rightful liege lord. They fight for the Florents not because of any apathy towards yourself Your Grace, but because they wish to advance their own families, and believe the Florents are more likely to allow them to achieve that.”

Daemon nods and then Lord Costayne continues. “As for Lords Cockshaw and Meadows, well the two are kin, so whatever one does the other will soon follow. Cockshaw despises the Tyrells and the Florents equally, so if you can offer him something then perhaps he might dip his banners.”

“And what sort of thing would that be that might sway a man like Cockshaw?” Daemon asks.

Lord Costayne clears his throat feeling slightly uncomfortable but he still answers. “Well, Cockshaw’s uncle was Lord during the second Blackfyre rebellion, and his uncle has received a lot of slights since that time. I do believe if Your Grace could have the man given a formal and royal pardon the man would be much more willing to side with you.”

Daemon is taken aback by that, normally there would be all kinds of demands made of him from the nobility. “That is all it would truly take for me to win Cockshaw over?”

Lord Costayne nods and says. “Yes Your Grace. Lord Cockshaw greatly admired his uncle and follows some of his hum preferences and as such it would make him feel much more comfortable with your reign if he knew his uncle was pardoned.”

Daemon nods and says. “Very well, I shall have word sent to Ser Aegor and have him draft the pardon. Now what of Florent himself?”

Here all three lords laugh somewhat. “Well,” begins Lord Costayne. “Lord Andrew Florent is a proud man, but he lacks the wits his sons have. He also lacks the popularity to truly continue on with his defiance. In short Your Grace, the houses that rebelled against the Tyrells did so because of Florent’s sons Alester and Axell both of whom are far more popular than him. If you want the Florents to surrender, put Lord Andrew in chains and name Alester lord and have done with it.”

Daemon nods and then says. “Very well then. We have dithered for long enough. Now is the time for us to ride and settle this issue once and for all.”

The three lords nod and discussion comes to an end, they spend the night at the Garden Inn where one of the many battles was fought, before riding out the next morning for Brightwater Keep. With Daemon come two members of the Kingsguard, Ser Gawen Baratheon Lord Lyonel’s uncle and Ser Davos Redtusk the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. 4,000 men from the Golden Company and some 3,000 men from the armies of Lords Rowan, Tarly and Costayne ride with them. Their journey to Brighwater Keep is relatively uneventful and Daemon does have the time to note that snow is spreading thick and fast over the charred ground of the battle sites, and the fact that the crops that would usually grow have become stunted and dead. This will be a worry for the winter once it truly sets in.

Brightwater Keep is a tower and a small castle and that is all, the Florents, Daemon can guess want Highgarden so they can move away from such a dim fortress. The Honeywine flows in the background and as they ride up the hill to the castle, Daemon has his army surround the place. As expected a voice calls down from the walls. “Halt! Who goes there?”

Daemon raises the visor of his helm and says in a commanding tone. “King Daemon Blackfyre, the King of Westeros. I have come to get the Florents and their allies to bend the knee and to end this war.”

There is a moment’s silence and then the gates of Brightwater Keep open and out rides Lord Andrew Florent, dressed in his house’s colours and looking fat and angry. He is followed by both of his sons Alester and Axell, as Lord Costayne points out. The Florent party stops just short of Daemon, and Lord Andrew looks at him dismissively and then says. “So you are the pretender who has come to force me to bend the knee? Bah.” The man spits.

Ser Gawen and Ser Davos put their hands to the hilts of their swords, but Daemon is unperturbed. “I have come here to end this foolishness once and for all Lord Andrew. The war is done, Aegon Targaryen and his two oldest sons and his daughter are dead. The Targaryens are finished. There is no point in you continuing to resist the inevitable. Lower your banners, sheath your swords, hand over Lord Luthor Tyrell and Daeron Targaryen and bend the knee and you may keep your lands and incomes.”

Lord Andrew is silent for a moment and then says. “Ah but the Targaryens are not all done. Rhaelle Targaryen remains as does Daeron Targaryen. And in the Vale there is Maegor Targaryen. Either one of them could bring about a rebellion and unseat you, the usurper that you are.”

Lord Costayne laughed then and said. “Ah Andrew I did not know you had become so senile. Look around you now my lord. You will not survive here for another day, let alone a week or a month. Surrender now and accept the King’s terms.”

Florent snarled then and said. “And do what? Watch as the Tyrells continue to hold a seat they have no right to? Follow your example? How long till you try and get your daughter in the King’s bed Costayne?”

Costayne looked deeply angered by this accusation and went to draw his sword, but Daemon spoke before it could fall further. “Enough. You have heard my terms Lord Florent, now tell me what you will do or I shall storm your keep and end your line once and for all.”

Florent laughed at that and said. “Brightwater Keep has never fallen before, not to the Gardeners and not to the Ironborn. So it will never fall to you pretender. I will not bend the knee.” With that he turned his horse around and rode in.

His son Alester followed him but, Axell remained behind for a moment and then whispered. “Give me a few minutes Your Grace, and Brightwater Keep will be yours.” With that he too turned round and rode back to the keep.

The meeting had not gone as well as Daemon had expected and yet Lords Tarly and Costayne seemed upbeat about it all with Tarly saying. “Soon enough the Florents will see sense and they will realise where they have gone wrong.” Sure enough, Lords Cockshaw and Meadows soon sent envoys out to discuss terms and shortly afterwards were seen leaving Brightwater Keep and swearing themselves to Daemon and House Blackfyre.

As the sun began to set and the moon came into light, Lord Costayne left the command tend to attend to some matter or the other, Lords Rowan and Tarly left soon after, and Daemon was left alone with his two Kingsguard, placing Ser Gawen outside the tent, Daemon took the moment to speak to an old friend in his Lord Commander. “So Ser Davos, what do you make of being back in Westeros?”

His old friend was a hardened solider who rarely spoke but when he did, one tended to listen. “It feels nice Your Grace. Though it will take some time before it truly sinks in.”

Daemon nods and is about to reply when Lord Costayne hurries into the tent. “Your Grace, word has come in, Lord Andrew Florent is dead. His son Lord Alester wishes to surrender and accept your terms.”

Daemon thinks of what Ser Axell had said but merely nods and then walks out and rides out to greet the Florents, who come with Lord Luthor Tyrell and Daeron Targaryen, he accepts their oaths of fealty and with that manages to end the fighting in the Reach without having to shed any further blood.


	14. Into The Shadows

****

**Eighth Month of 240 A.C. River Road, the Vale**

**Prince Vaegon Blackfyre**

Vaegon had memories, vague though they were of life in his father’s keep before the Blackfyre rebellion had taken place. He had been the youngest son of Daemon Blackfyre, the King Who Bore the Sword born two years before the rebellion had happened. He remembered frolicking around the grounds and playing with his brothers and sisters, and occasionally with cousins, and even one time Daeron Targaryen had come for a visit. And then the war had happened and they had lost and fled to Tyrosh where they had lived the rest of their lives, Vaegon’s mother had died in her home, broken hearted and Vaegon had watched as the obsession for the throne consumed his brothers and then his nephews. At least the desire for the throne had been sated, now they needed to simply subdue those lords who refused to kneel. His nephew King Daemon, had managed to do it in the Reach getting the Florent and their allies to bend the knee and getting Lord Luthor Tyrell back into Highgarden and walking away with Daeron Targaryen as a hostage. Vaegon hoped he could achieve the same in the Vale, after all his key skill was diplomacy.

“The Bloody Gate has never fallen, and now that winter is upon us, we have an even more difficult task in making the Vale Lords see sense. We do not have the numbers to bring them down by force, and so we must think of bringing them down with reason.” Vaegon began. “Lord Butterwell has there been any response from the Gates of the Moon as to the envoys you sent up?”

Lord Jason Butterwell was a stout man of a nervous disposition who stuttered as he spoke. “There has been Your Grace. Lord Jon Arryn did not even bother treating with my son, and instead sent him back to me in pieces. The message was clear, they will not bother speaking with us about achieving their surrender through peaceful means.”

Vaegon sighed. “So there will be no peaceful resolution. What do we know of this Jon Arryn?”

Lord Bracken spoke then. “He is a standard Arryn, my prince. Good with swords and words, but also places a high value on honour. His cousin’s son Maegor also resides in the Gates of the Moon and it is likely that he is refusing all efforts to speak about peace because of this.”

Vaegon nods taking note of this and asks. “So, the man might seek to make peace if we can get to Daenora and Maegor Targaryen. Hold them and we will make Arryn bend. The question is how?”

Lord Oscar Tully spoke then. “I do believe that the only way we shall be able to achieve that is through subterfuge and other such means. Means that might not look well on the King should they ever come back to him.”

Intrigued Vaegon asks. “And what sort of methods would those be my lord?”

Lord Oscar clearly feels uncomfortable and yet he still proceeds on. “Well we could try sending another peace envoy out and when they come to meet us we could attack whoever is sent out and use them to force our way in. Alternatively, I am sure you could sneak one of your spies into the Gates of the Moon and have the pretender and his mother captured.”

Such methods did make sense and yet. “We do not have enough time to fully prepare for such a thing. The king has asked that we end this as soon as possible, after all winter will be damaging enough. We must break the Bloody Gate and we must do it soon.”

Lord Whent spoke then his voice quavering. “That is nigh on impossible my prince. Even when there were seven kingdoms, none managed to break the Bloody Gate. The histories are filled with hosts smashing themselves to pieces trying to do so. Surely there must be a way to make Lord Arryn see reason that does not involve subterfuge?”

Vaegon ponders this for a moment and then an idea reaches him. “Lord Jon Arryn is young is he not? No older than fifeteen or sixteen. A green boy all things told, perhaps we might appeal to the foolhardiness of youth and issue a challenge. If he can beat a champion of our choosing in single combat we shall leave him and the vale alone, if he loses then the Vale bends the knee.”

There is some murmuring at that and Lord Bracken asks. “And whom might I ask might be chosen as our champion Your Grace? After all the future fealty of the Vale is banking on this.”

Vaegon considers for a moment and then says. “Well to make things even more interesting why do we not choose a member of the Kingsguard. Two members are here right now, Ser Torrhen Manderly and Ser Osgood Peake. I shall speak with one of them and whichever one proves more willing to fight will go forward. Jon Arryn is a green boy who will be eager for glory. He will not refuse.”

“And what if Arryn refuses and instead brings his forces down from the Gates of the Moon? What then?” Asks Lord Oscar Tully.

Vaegon is silent for a long moment and then says. “Then we shall mount up and prepare for war. And this time the Vale shall bend or they shall be destroyed.”

With that the war council comes to an end and Vaegon calls the two members of the Kingsguard into his tent and says. “We have a pressing situation. Jon Arryn has refused a peace envoy, and now we must settle this matter once and for all. Which one of you two knights wishes to face him in single combat and win unending glory?”

There is a moment’s silence, and Vaegon can see that Ser Torrhen who had served for Aegon the fortunate feels uncomfortable, Ser Osgood however looks more than eager. He raises his voice and says. “I would request that honour Your Grace.” With that Vaegon nods and dismisses the two men, he writes out the request and sends it on with his squire to the Gates of the Moon.

Sometime later, his squire’s hands come back with the note. “We shall not fight like cravens. Prepare for battle usurper.”

Vaegon sighs, so it will be war and more bloodshed. He calls the war council together. “Jon Arryn has rejected the offer, we shall be fighting the Vale forces once more. Now Lord Butterwell, how strong were they when last you chanced to look?”

Lord Jason Butterwell is silent for a moment as he looks over his notes and then he says. “Some 6,000 men my prince. Lord Jasper’s mad dash in the Kingswood cost them dearly. And as such the Vale Lords will be trying to muster more men.”

Vaegon nods upon hearing this and says. “Very well then, it is like that they shall march down from the Gates of the Moon and head towards the Bloody Gate. We shall need to have men climb over the rocks and try and kill the gate keepers on the two gates, and have the main body of the host marching through in single file along the pathway towards the gate itself.”

There are murmurs of agreement and then Lord Bracken asks. “And who do you wish to lead the parties of men climbing over the rocks?”

Vaegon pauses for a moment and then says. “Ser Torrhen Manderly shall lead one party of fifty men, whilst Lord Jason shall lead another party of fifty men. This must be done as the light is fading and we shall march as the men are going over.”

The lords all agree and then the war council itself is dismissed. Vaegon begins preparing for the battle by dressing in his armour, red armour with his house crest on it, armour his mother gave to him before she died. He straps on his sword Justice that his brother Haegon gave to him, and then he says a quick prayer to the warrior. Once that is done and as the sun begins to set, he waits and watches as Lord Butterwell and Ser Torrhen and their parties disappear into the fading light soon to be climbing over the rocks of the Bloody Gate.

Once the sun was set completely, Vaegon mounts his horse and commands his men to move forward. Once they come to the ridge, he nods his head and Lord Bracken leads the vanguard out, followed by Lord Whent and the right, and then Lord Charlton and the left. Soon enough Vaegon can hear the distant sounds of battle and something within him hungers at that, he draws his sword and roars a command and then the centre is entering the fray of battle. Vaegon swings his sword, left, right and centre, cutting down men with some ease, bringing them down in the heat of battle, swinging his sword, left, right and centre, more and more men begin to fall before him and his sword begins to glint red in the moonlight.

The battle rage and the sounds of steel on steel and the sight of sparks flying through the air, sends chills down Vaegon’s spine, he was never the most warrior like of his family but he knows a good fight when he sees one. He swings his sword this way and that, hacking away at the enemy and taking his fair share of blows, his blood joining the growing pile of dust and dirt and river of blood that is steadily accumulating on the ground before him. He hears screams and looks up briefly to see the men scaling the walls being shot down, someone told, they knew they were coming now. That thought is pushed from his mind when he feels a sharp pain in his arm and sees an axe buried in it. He roars in pain and kills the man who buried the axe there.

 

Protected by Ser Osgood Peake he rides to the back of the army and gets tended to, cut and bleeding from several places he begins to wonder if this whole thing was a mistake. A view that is further enforced when he asks. “Ser Arthur how goes the battle?”

Ser Arthur Butterwell heir to his father and the Butterwell lands is silent a moment and then says. “Badly My prince, my father and his men were killed on the walls brought down by arrow fire. Ser Torrhen Manderly was killed as well. The Valemen knew we were coming now, there is a rat amongst us.”

Vaegon sighs he had feared as much. “How holds the left?”

Butterwell sighs. “Broken, Lord Bracken and his heir are dead. Ser Henry Rivers tried to rally them but he was slain. We are losing Your Grace.”

Vaegon stands then and says. “Then we had best rectify that had we not?” He gets back on his horse, his chest still hurting and rides back to take command of the centre, bodies lie piled around him, and the walls are covered in blood. Still he roars a command and his men follow him and the battle recommences for him. Swinging his sword left, right and centre, hacking and slashing, cutting, ducking and dodging. On he goes, breaking through the Valemen and cutting them down to size, he feels the adrenaline kicking in, laughing he goes on.

And then he feels one arrow after another pierce his armour, the world begins to turn black as blood begins to pour out of him. He begins swaying on his horse, he is distantly aware of his sword clattering to the ground followed by the world going black. Another arrow followed by another and then another hits him, bringing him down off of his horse. The arrows keep coming and then Vaegon feels no more pain, he prays to the seven that the world will be spared any pain from Maelys, his son, his only son.


	15. The Monstrous

**Tenth Month of 240 A.C. Lannisport.**

**Prince Maelys Blackfyre**

It had taken time to muster enough men to make the submission of the Westerlands worth wile. Maelys had come from Dragonstone as per his king’s orders and had taken some 4,000 men from the Golden Company and at Fair Market had been joined by some 4,000 men from the Riverlands under the command of Lord Oscar Tully’s brother Ser Tristifer.  From there they had marched for the Golden Tooth where their strength when added to that of the Westerlords who had sworn themselves to King Daemon under the command of Lord Roger Reyne had been enough to finally break the defences of Lord Lyman Lefford, and thus bring the Tooth under their command. Maelys did have to admit that though the Westerlands were beautiful and bountiful, he did prepare the more serene and sedate pace of things at Dragonstone, he also found it somewhat irksome how everyone was so scared of him not because of his deformity but because of what he had done at Dragonstone.

Now they had a battle to fight, with Tytos Lannister and his brother Jason prisoners in their camp, the Targaryen loyalists had rallied around Ser Devon Lannister of Lannisport and as such the man and his allies, the Baneforts, the Crakehalls and the Parrens were causing all kinds of trouble. Maelys aimed to end that now. “What do we know of this Devon Lannister then? Is he made of iron like his cousin Lord Gerold or is he like to break?”

Ser Reynard spoke then. “He is made of solid iron my prince. He will likely die before he breaks. His allies have continued fighting for the Lannisters not out of any sense of loyalty to Tytos Lannister but because Devon Lannister reminds them so much of Lord Gerold in his younger days.”

“So then they see him as some sort of snake who they are scared of? Perhaps this can be used to our advantage. What are relations like between the three houses that are allied with the man?” Maelys asked.

It was Ser Reynard who responded once more. “They are tense my prince. The Parrens are a proud house who believe that they are owed more than what the Lannisters have been giving them. The Crakehalls have more strength than sense in them, and as such they are merely following Ser Devon because he has promised them his hand for their daughter. As to the Baneforts lord alone knows what their goal is.”

Maelys nods and then says. “Very well, perhaps we can make a play on this and use certain methods to uneven out the alliance. You still have your men within the Crakehall camp Ser Reynard?”

Ser Reynard nods and asks. “To what extent would you wish for the discontent to be sown my prince?”

Maelys is silent for a moment and the he remembers something his mother once told him long ago and he smiles. “The Crakehalls need to feel slighted by Lannister, and the Parrens and the Baneforts need to play their role in ensuring this happens. And yet that would take too much time, time we do not have.”

Lord Steven Lydden speaks then. “Plus it might bring some questions amongst the sharper members of those houses my prince. Not everyone is as dull as Lord Lyman Lefford was.”

There is lots of laughter at that and even Maelys has to crack a grin. But then he turns serious once more and says. “Aye that is true, but for now we must speak of what we know. How many men does Devon Lannister have and where will he be like to position them?”

Lord Roger speaks then for the first time. “According to my scouts the man has some 4,000 men with him. They are currently living off of the food in the stores of the Rock, but are beginning run low on such supplies. It is like that one move could bring them down and out of the castle. As to where they might position their men should they come out for battle, they will come down the mountain and head straight for the city.”

Maelys nods and then asks. “What do you propose for bringing them out of the castle and into the streets for fighting?”

At this Lord Roger smiles, and says. “We hold Tytos and Jason Lannister, we send a missive to the Rock saying that unless Devon Lannister comes out and bends the knee you shall hang them both. Devon Lannister cares greatly for his cousins, and as such will likely rush out with all his strength to stop you from doing so. He always has been a man who prefers fighting with his sword than with words.”

Maelys considers this for a long moment and then says. “Very well, bring them both here I would speak with them now.” He says this to his cousin Ser Maegor Bittersteel of the Kingsguard who bows and then returns a moment later with boy Lannister boys in chains, Tytos Lannister looks rather worse for wear, whilst his brother Jason still seems defiant. “I trust you both are well and that my guards have not been treating you badly?”

“As if you could ever break a lion you two headed monster.” Jason Lannister says before spitting at Maelys feet.

Maelys laughs as Ser Maegor cuffs the young man on the head and says. “At least your spirit has not been broken. And what of you Tytos, what do you think?”

The new lord of Casterly Rock stutters and sputters and eventually manages to say. “I do not know my prince. I know not why you have brought us here, we have done nothing but do as you said.”

Maelys smiles a cruel smile at that and then says. “Whilst that is true, your cousin continues to fight on even when it would be best for him to lay down his sword and command his allies to do so as well. That is where you come in.”

“I… I do not understand my prince.” Tytos stutters.

Maelys sighs then feeling his anger grow. “You are going to write a letter to your cousin and tell him to surrender. And that he does not both you and your brother will die. And Lannisport will be sacked and the man’s wife and children shall be killed.”

He sees Lannister swallow before saying. “Yes my prince.”

“Good, now get out of my sight.” Maelys responds. Once the two boys have been removed Maelys is silent for a moment and then speaks once more. “From what you have all told me, it is highly likely that Devon Lannister will not surrender. In that instance, I do not want to be unprepared. I want all of the men ready for action the moment I give the go ahead. Lord Roger you shall command the vanguard, Lord Lydden you shall command the left, Lord Brax you shall command the right and I shall command the centre. Station out across the gates of the Stars for that is where we shall lead them to, or rather that is where you shall lead them to Lord Roger. And once the Stars are in line we shall butcher them against the walls.”

There are murmurs of agreement and then Ser Reynard asks. “What would be the plan should this not work my prince? I hate to be a bearer of bad news but it might not always go this way.”

Maelys nods understanding and then says. “We shall ride for the Rock and starve them out. Or…” before he can finish his squire walks in and whispers into his ear. Maelys roars with laughter then and says. “It appears that Ser Devon has written back already. He does not wish to surrender and is marching is men down as we speak.”

With that the war council comes to an end as the lords gathered hurry out to begin preparing for the battle that is to come. Maelys as always is already ready and as such is merely practicing his sword moves and his moves with his Morningstar when his squire comes in to tell him that the Lannister soldiers have been spotted. Once he has given orders for the two Lannister boys to be killed should things go pear shaped he mounts his horse and rides out for battle. The waiting is always the hardest part, as he sees Lord Roger Reyne leading the Lannister soldiers on a merry chase, Maelys roars. “Pikes UP!” And then “Spears at the Ready.” And he waits and waits and then he roars. “Engage.” And then the screams of horses and men dying on the pikes and spear causes him to laugh. “Lunge.” He roars and more carnage is caused.

Eventually the Lannister soldiers realise that there is a gap in the defences and they probe through them. Maelys roars with delight, they have fallen into his trap, and as the left and the right move in Maelys roars a command and begins swinging his Morningstar with abandon not caring who he kills. Men fall before him, dying and moaning their way to their deaths. Maelys laughs, and swings along gaily, swinging and crushing men’s skulls into pieces, on it goes, on and on. The bloodlust has overtaken him now, the only thing he has ever truly been good at. Battle fighting and killing, this was what he was made for, not playing court, he swings and men die and he feels in command.

The battle waxes and wanes over the next hour and Maelys is at the centre of it all swinging his Morningstar looking like some sort of animal with his two heads cutting an intimidating figure on the battlefield. He is the one who kills Ser Devon Lannister and the man’s son Loren Lannister and so on and so forth, more and more men die by Maelys hand than by any others, and soon enough when Lord Desmond Crakehall throws his sword down and surrender and others do so as well, Maelys smiles a great smile.  Later much later, Maelys still dressed in his armour greets the captured lords with a smile and says. “Ah my lords, no need to look so grim. You fought valiantly, and surrendered when you realised all was lost. Now I shall take your oaths of fealty and hostages and then send you on your way.”

Lords Crakehall and Banefort get on bended knee along with their bannermen, as do Tytos and Jason Lannister. And all say. “I hereby swear allegiance to King Daemon Blackfyre, First of his name King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First name and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I promise to serve him with honour and faith.”

Once that is done, Maelys bids the lords rise and then says. “I have with me a declaration from the King. From this day forth, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock are stripped of the Rock and are reduced from Lords to a mere knightly house. You may set up your holdings on a tract of land in the mountains. The Reynes of Castamere are now the new Lord Paramount Family of the West, and Lord Roger Reyne the new Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock.”

There is some shocked murmuring at this and Lord Roger gets to one knee and says. “I am honoured and humbled by this honour my prince. And I do gratefully accept.”

Maelys nods and says. “That is good. Now if the rest of you will leave I wish to speak with the Reynes alone.” Once the other lords had left, Maelys turns to Roger and says. “Jason Lannister shall serve as your ward my lord. Should he attempt to do anything untoward, you are to kill him. No hesitations whatsoever. As for you Lord Reynard, the king expects you to come to court once you have settled your affairs here.”

Lord Reynard seems taken aback by this and asks. “He does my prince?”

Maelys nods smiling slightly. “You need not look so worried. With my father’s death at the Vale, there is a vacancy on the King’s small council. The king wishes you to be the new master of whispers.”

Lord Reynard smiles then and says. “Then I am very much honoured to accept.”


	16. Laughter of the Storm

**12 th Month of 240 A.C. : Vulture’s Roost**

**Lord Lyonel Baratheon**

The war with the Targaryens was over, the red dragon, a dynasty that had once been great had finally been brought low and been brought to ground, by that bastard offshoot that for so long had been ridiculed. King Daemon I Blackfyre was everything Aegon the Fortunate could have been but was not, strong and honourable with a keen sense of duty. The man would lead Westeros into a golden age of that Lyonel was sure, whilst his old friend’s sons were dead that was a keen vengeance, the death of Shaera was a blow that Lyonel felt somewhat, he had liked the girl well enough, as for Rhaelle, that she was now his wife’s handmaiden was somewhat of a bonus, a dent to Targaryen pride. Now he just needed to finish the task the King had given him, getting the Dornish to submit. House Martell led by Prince Qoren Martell had declared neutrality and given some oaths of fealty to the king at King’s Landing and yet the fact that the Dornish continued fighting led by Lord Maron Uller remained suspicious.

Some Dornish lords had joined him such as Lord Yronwood but even then he was suspicious of him, not trusting him to the councils Lyonel held them with only his trusted bannermen and this was one such occasion. “The Dornish are holding out against us. Winter is here and yet they continue to withstand all that we throw at them. I must needs know which lords we are facing now and how many men they have under their command.”

As ever Lord Marcus Swann his goodson, was first off the mark. “Well my lord, my scouts report that Lords Fowler, Blackmont and Wyl have all joined together in what they are calling the unholy alliance to push us back. Lord Wyl has already lived up to the sinister reputation of his forebearers and captured my brother Ser Donnel and has reportedly tortured him.”

“How is that I am just coming to learn of this now Marcus?” Lyonel asks his temper growing. “If Lord Wyl has indeed captured your brother, then there is every chance that your brother has spoken about our plans and Wyl will act accordingly.”

Lord Marcus was quick to sputter to his brother’s defence. “Donnel would never betray our plans to the Dornish scum. I only mention it now because I only learnt of it before this meeting. I swear I had I known sooner I would have acted.”

“What of the Manwoodys?” Lord Beric Dondarrion asks. “Have they not joined this unholy alliance? Surely they would be more than happy to considering the history.”

Lyonel looks at his goodson his eyebrow raised in question. “They have not, in fact they do not seem to have truly reacted to news of the war in Dorne. They have remained aloof, even when Dorne fought for the Targaryens.”

Lord Armond Connington who fostered Dorne speaks then. “I believe I can answer to that. Lord Daeron Manwoody was always cautious as a boy, he would never bring forward is main hand until later on, when he knew where to throw the dice. That is what he is doing now, he is waiting and watching. Once he knows who the main winner will be, he will call his banners and march.”

“You say main winners as if you expect us to lose Lord Armond. Do you believe that our chances of winning are not high?” Lyonel asks.

Lord Armond blushes somewhat and says. “No, not at all. I am merely what might happen. After all a man such as Orys Baratheon struggled to conquer Dorne for Aegon the Dragon. Dorne will have had its nationalism reignited by this struggle and they will likely continue struggling on for some time.”

Lyonel nods accepting this answer, after all it was something he had considered. “Very well, bring Lord Yronwood in we must find out what we can about these lords.”

Lord Edgar Yronwood was a poisonous snake like all Dornishmen but he was a useful one. He takes one look at the map before them and says. “I can tell you right now, that the fact that Lord Manwoody hasn’t formally declared for the unholy alliance by no means, means that he is not going to have men in that army. Manwoody is related to the Fowlers by marriage, the Blackmonts through blood and the Daynes are his oldest friends. I can promise you now one or more of his sons will be sat in the tent of the council of the alliance.”

Lyonel nods and says. “That is all very well and good my lord. But I must needs know what these men will do and who will command them.”

Lord Edgar smiles then and says. “Lord Blackmont will take command of the host because he is the oldest, at fifty. But in fact Lord Gerold Dayne the Sword of the Morning shall hold true command of the vanguard and the men will rally around his banner.  You wish to win this battle? Take command of the vanguard yourself my lord, and draw Dayne to you. He is hot headed and will not see the trap that you will lay before him.”

“Oh and what trap is that my lord?” Marcus asks.

Lord Yronwood smiles once more and says. “You are fighting vipers, you must form your army into a viper. The left should be the top jaw, the right the bottom, the vanguard the tongue that latches onto its prey, and the reserve should be the face working to break the first sign of weakness, stalking its prey. You will want your best commanders working the field.”

Lyonel nods and then says. “Very well. I shall command the vanguard. Lord Armond you shall command the left, Lord Edgar you shall command the right, Lord Beric you shall command the reserve. We shall break from here and march at first light.” The other lords are dismissed but Marcus remains. “Do not take offense that I did not give you a command Marcus. You will be fighting alongside me in the van. My daughter would kill me if you died.”

Marcus is silent for a moment and then asks. “Do you trust what Lord Edgar said? The man might be a Yronwood but he is still Dornish.”

Lyonel looks at his goodson and smiles. “That is exactly why we are doing what he is saying and why he is commanding the right. Should something go awry he will be the one to die and suffer and his men as well. Now go and prepare.”

The next day dawns bright and clear, still humid despite it being winter, and soon enough they are riding out to battle. Lyonel can see that Lord Edgar was right, the unholy alliance has bandied itself in a viper formation banners of the Blackmonts, Fowlers, Daynes and even the Manwoodys present. They begin the battle and soon enough Lyonel cannot be bothered continuing on counting the banners, he simply unsheathes his sword and begins swinging it. Cutting down men, left, right, centre again and again on it goes the battle raging at a hundred miles an hour as it is wont to do. The faces pass by in a blur and still Lyonel keeps on fighting, swinging his sword cutting men down by the size. His sword runs red with blood soon enough, and still more men come.

The Dornishmen are fierce fighters Lyonel will give them that, they give as well as they get. And more often than not for everyman Lyonel kills another three step up to take their fallen comrades place. He soon loses count of the number of bruises he receives, the amount of time his armour gets dented and new wounds open up to cut through the old ones. All he knows is that he keep swinging his sword until his arm is physically aching, at one point his guards pull him back and Marcus takes command of the vanguard. When he comes back to the battle he rides passed the corpse of Lord Gerold Dayne Dawn in the hands of his goodson. The vanguard broken, Lyonel leads his own men towards the right to ensure that Lord Edgar is not up to anything.

As it turns out Yronwood as delivered and though Lyonel does have to engage in some fighting when he joins the vanguard to the right there is not as much as he had first thought. And soon enough these Dornishmen have thrown down their swords and have surrendered. All in all they lost some 3,000 men today, and the unholy alliance lost its leaders, Lords Fowler, Dayne and Blackmont all died. In their places Lyonel takes the heir of the new Lord Dayne as a hostage, as well as the new young lady Blackmont. He names Ser Rodrik Caron as warden of the Prince’s Pass and under the King’s Authority gives him Kingsgrave to hold together the Pass, and leaving the hostages with him. He then rides on when he learns of a force under the command of Lord Maron Uller is mustering at Sandstone with the intention of retaking the Prince’s Pass.

The Baratheon host is some 7,000 strong the Uller host some 5,000 strong. The two hosts meet at the sand plains after guerrilla tactics have left Lord Lyonel without some of his finer commanders due to their deaths in the sands. The battle is fierce, Lyonel commanding the vanguard once more swings his sword like a cleaver, removing the heads and other bodily parts of Dornishmen that come into his way, laughing as he does so. The sound is maniacal but it becomes the only way he can deal with the pain and the pressure he is feeling. The plains are stained red with blood as the battle waxes and wanes in one direction or another, and then Lord Edgar Yronwood reveals his hand as Lyonel suspected he might and turns his cloak, attacking the reserve, thankfully Lord Ronnet Tarth is a smart man and he manages to break Yronwood and slay him and his heir. But that distraction gives Lord Maron Uller time to flee, and by the time Lyonel and his men get to Sandstone they find is deserted.

When word comes of the death of Ser Rodrik Caron and the freeing of the hostages, Lyonel’s wroth is something to behold. He rides forth from Sandstone himself taking half his host with him, and when he meets bandits along the way he has them all killed leaving none alive for long enough to plead for mercy. He marches on and arrives at Kingsgrave to find it abandoned save for old women and children, his anger growing he orders the castle sacked in an attempt to bring Lord Manwoody out of wherever he is hiding. When that does not work, Lyonel has the castle burned down to the ground and rides for Skyreach. At Skyreach he captures Lady Desmera Fowler and her children, he has them sent with an armed escort through the Pass and to Nightsong.

Blackmont and Dayne then begin picking away at his men as they march towards Sandstone, and this angers Lyonel more than he can say. He orders a stop to the march one day and they wait through the pounding heat in the day and then when the biting cold comes at night they wait and then when the Dornish bandits come forward he orders his archers to fire and he roars his commands and then another battle takes place this one short and sweet, he rides towards Sandstone with the heads of Lords Dayne Blackmont and Ser Ferris Sand on pikes before him.  He is at Sandstone when he receives a letter containing the hand of his goodson Marcus Swann, another message is written in blood. It states _Four days from now, the swan shall die. Leave Dorne or else._

Lyonel feels his anger grow he pictures Marcus and then he sees his daughters tear stained face and he swears a bloody vengeance, and he orders his men to march for Hellholt. Only to be frustrated when they find the castle empty bar for two men who bear his coat of arms. Revenge is now the only thing on his mind.


	17. Uller

**12 th Month of 241 A.C. Hellholt.**

**Lord Maron Uller**

Lyonel Baratheon was worthy foe, the man had guts and determination, Maron would give him that, but he lacked common sense, the Targaryens had never been able to conquer Dorne with Dragons and when they had not had dragons it had taken marriage to bring the Sunspear to heel. This time such a thing was not going to happen. Maron had been tasked with making sure that that was the case and it was something he was going to ensure. The first few battles he had had with Lyonel Baratheon had been interesting, especially the viper formation the man seemed to favour, before Yronwood betrayed him that is, afterwards he rode in columns. Columns that were easy to pick at and destroy one by one, which Maron was very good at. Lyonel Baratheon might be stubborn as an ox but his men were not and they would often go lagging behind the main host and that was when Maron and his men would strike, cutting in, in the darkness or in the dunes and cutting down men and taking them prisoner.

Baratheon had eventually twigged to what he was doing and as such they had met in some small pitched battles within the dunes, and Maron had actually exchanged blows with the man. He was truly a good fighter, an excellent swordsman who knew where Maron was going to be swinging his sword sometimes before Maron himself knew. And yet that battle in the Dunes ended in victory for Maron and his men for, Lyonel Baratheon was badly injured and his second in command as well as many of his other commanders died, painting the dunes red with blood and giving more bodies to the ever sand. Next had come the battle of the standsand, where very bloody battle where Maron had watched his own children die by the dozen under the command of one Ser Harbert Baratheon, and yet somehow they had still won that battle, mainly thanks to the scorpions in the sands that cut and stung the Baratheon men. Harbert Baratheon was a prisoner of theirs now and it was to him that Maron found his thoughts turning to.

Maron had questioned the man many times over the months, as Dorne continued to burn and Lyonel Baratheon and his men grew weaker. And yet the man was nearly as implacable as his brother. _“So tell me Ser Harbert,” Maron began. “What do you think your brother hopes to achieve by trying to conquer Dorne with sword and fire?”_

_Harbert Baratheon had looked bloodied and beaten then and still he had been defiant. “He hopes to teach you curs the meaning of the word surrender. Daemon Blackfyre sits the throne now King of All Seven Kingdoms.”_

_At this Maron had laughed. “Aye, but so was Aegon the Dragon and every Targaryen up to Daeron the Good. And yet they never held Dorne, what is there to say that this pretender ever will hold Dorne?” With that he had brought out his knife and begun tracing along Baratheon’s arm._

_“You were beaten once before, by the Young Dragon. So badly broken that you seized at the opportunity for peace and unity. That will happen once more. Dorne cannot stand alone.” Harbert Baratheon had said._

_At this Maron had simply laughed and then said. “Ah but we will, we always have. You Westerosi with your ways always looking down on us. We are far superior to you all.” His anger was growing now, and he began digging the knife into Baratheon more, drawing blood._

_“Pah, as if that is the truth. Why do you think the Martells once again remain out of the fighting that they have brought to Dorne?” Harbert had asked._

_That had stopped Maron in his tracks then, that was a good point but then he shook his head and said. “They are building their strength up to destroy Baratheon should he come to Sunspear.”_

_Baratheon had looked at him then and asked. “Are they truly? They never suffer as badly as the rest of Dorne when there is fighting. Why is that?”_

_Maron felt a black anger descend upon him and said. “Silence. You have spoken for far too long now. Perhaps it is time we removed your tongue? Or maybe not, time to remove other parts first.” With that Maron had called for his sword and begun hacking away at Harbert Baratheon, removing first his left hand, and then his right hand-his sword hand- and from there he began removing different parts of the man’s body as the days changed, until Baratheon was broken and nearly mad. He returned after news came of the submission of Yronwood. “So tell me Harbert, where is your brother then? I would have thought he would come for you?”_

_“Pixies, there are pixies here. Why are there so many pixies mother?” Harbert had said, clearly mad._

_Maron had laughed loudly then and stood right next to Baratheon and whispered. “The pixies will continue being there for as long as I tell them to remain there Harbert. Now where is Lyonel?”_

_Harbert Baratheon had begun whimpering then, and as the flames were brought and Maron dipped his head in the flames and pulled it out again he began laughing manically, oh this was far too much fun._

A touch on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see his wife Shanai standing behind him looking concerned. “What is it?” he asked. “What has happened?” Has there been any news?”

His wife looked at him for a moment and then said. “Word has come back from Ser Elrick, it would appear that Ullwyck has joined with Baratheon and is leading men towards Hellholt.”

At this Maron had to laugh. “My cousin always was an ambitious man. Now did Elrick say where these men were?

Shanai nods. “A day’s ride north from here. They are being plagued by outriders though, and are running low on foodstuffs. Likely Baratheon might try and storm the castle to end this all quickly.”

Maron nods. “Aye he probably will. And that is why we must have fire ready. I will not give up my castle without a fight, even if we are not here when it does finally fall.”

His wife looks at him then and asks. “What do you mean? How are we going to get out? I am sure Ullwyck will have the secret passages guarded or looked at before they even begin to attack. And you know for a fact that some of the men here are his.”

Maron looks at his wife, his eyes glinting madly and says. “Oh but we shall get out. And we will do so in broad daylight when they are most like to be standing guard outside. For though Ullwyck might know where the passages are he never knew where they came out. We shall escape from right under his nose.”

“In broad daylight?” His wife asks amazed. “That is completely mad Maron, we will be seen and then we shall all be killed. Surely going at night is the better option?”

Maron shakes his head, latching onto the plan with eagerness. “No we leave at daylight when we see these men coming, we shall be heading out of the passageways as they are surrounding the castle. We shall all blend in with the servants. We must leave someone behind though.”

“What? Why?” Shanai asks.

Maron looks at his wife then madness glittering in them and says. “Because Ullwyck shall want a blood price and we shall give it to him. And then I will come back and kill him and all of his family for it.”

His wife looks frankly terrified when she asks. “Who… who will you leave behind Maron?”

Maron is silent a moment and then feels a sense of jubilation overtake him. “Edwyne, he shall be left behind. He is old enough to keep a ruse going.”

“He is but ten years old Maron! He can’t be left behind!” Shanai protests.

Maron feels his anger grow at his wife’s protests. “No, one must be left behind and I will not leave you or Stevron behind. Stevron is my heir. Edwyne, will be fine.”

With that he closes the matter and spends the night preparing the castle for what is to come, and in the morning the moment Baratheon banners are sighted, he hurries his family down the tunnels and into the passageways and then as the army begins surrounding his castle they are out of the keep and riding as hard as they can for where his army is stationed. They arrive at Vaith and are greeted with a hero’s welcome and good tidings from Lady Vaith. “You got away unscathed my lord Uller. Yronwood and others have begun rebelling against Lyonel Baratheon killing those men he left in charge, and raiding along the Marches. Soon enough the man will have to retreat back to the Stormlands.”

Maron nods and then asks. “And what of the Reach, are they sending lords in to aid Baratheon?”

Lady Vaith shakes her head. “From what I have heard they are having to deal with pirates and Ironborn raiders who are taking advantage of the chaos in the realm. Soon enough attention shall move from Dorne.”

Maron nods and so the next few weeks are spent in comfortable confinement in Vaith, preparing for the day when Lyonel Baratheon begins retreating back to the Stormlands so he can gain more vengeance, and perhaps even kill Baratheon. His wife does not speak to him the entire time they are in Vaith, he thinks it is over the fact that he left their son Edwyne behind, but truly he is not sure. He does not bother speaking with her, in fact he mostly consults with the voices that he hears telling him which way to lead the men when Baratheon finally retreats.

None else thinks that Baratheon will leave so soon, not after finally forcing his men into something resembling conquest, but when they are told that the man and his men some 2,000 strong now are leaving for the Stormlands, Maron smiles and tells his own men that they are riding out. And so in the dead of night, in bands of five or ten they find the places where Baratheon and his men will be marching and they wait for them, joined as they are by men from Yronwood, Skyreach and Blackmont and other castles. When the Baratheon host flickers into life early in the morning, Maron gives the command and soon enough they are cutting through Baratheon soldiers, Maron laughing as he does so, he kills more than enough men to sate the voices in his head before retreating back behind the sands.

Baratheon clearly thinks the attacks have stopped, for he rides forward with a white peace banner back through the pass, but Maron has smelt blood and he will not stop till he gets it. And so in he and his men chase the Baratheon host using the desert as cover and they begin picking off men one after the other taking some back to their castles with them for entertainment. Maron laughs gaily when he finds Lord Marcus Swan the man who killed his daughter, and he delights in torturing the man until he screams for death.

He returns to Hellholt to find his cousin cowering at the gates, he smiles at his cousin and says not a word for the whole day he is back. In the dead of night he sneaks into his cousin’s chambers and has Shanai press a knife to Ullwyck’s throat, whilst he takes a hot poker and begins pressing it down on his cousin’s body.  He laughs with glee when Ullwyck begins to scream and pleads for mercy, Maron Uller, the Uller, laughs with glee and then he takes his wife there and then next to his cousin’s corpse. Dorne is free for now.


	18. Heavy Lies The Crown

**Fourth Month of 244 A.C. : King’s Landing**

**King Daemon I Blackfyre**

There were days when Daemon missed Tyrosh, for so many years the place had been his home, the place where after a long war and a tiring campaign he could retire to and shut the whole world out. In Tyrosh though he had lived a life of exile, there had still be a sense of freedom that he truly felt was lacking here in King’s Landing. In Tyrosh he was simply the trainer of men, and could say what he felt and when he felt it, there were no games involved, in King’s Landing he had to keep a tight lid on his words for fear of upsetting this lord or another. Then there were the games these nobles played, trying through one way or another to earn his favour to further their own agenda, it was truly frustrating, and yet there was nothing that could be done about. He was the King and he had to deal with it as best he could.

At least in the council meetings he could say what he truly thought, no games were played here, for if they were the council members knew what would befall them. “Winter is over, and summer is here. We should be thankful for that, for it now means the rebels have less means to truly give cause for more war. They have exhausted their options and the smallfolk have no more means of stomaching them. Now then, what news is there from the kingdom Lord Reynard?”

Lord Reynard Reyne, master of whispers and Lord of Castamere spoke. “Well Your Grace, I bring good tidings from the Westerlands, my brother Lord Roger has wed Ella Lannister of Lannisport and with that marriage has ensured that his hold on the Rock is more secure. Though with Tytos and Jason Lannister still out there in the mountains breeding like rabbits sooner or later there will another rebellion.”

“So do you think that Tytos Lannister will descend from the mountains with steel and fire and attempt to remove your brother from his place?” Daemon asks somewhat bemusedly.

Lord Reynard shakes his head. “No Your Grace, Tytos Lannister is too much of a weakling to attempt such a thing. His brother, Jason though is another matter. Though the lad is only fifteen he is strong and good with a sword. He draws people to him like light to the flies. Already there are whisperings of placing him as the contender for the Lion’s seat.”

Daemon ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Ah, is there any way we could deal with this Jason Lannister without shedding anymore blood?”

“No Your Grace,” Lord Reynard said shaking his head. “Unless you wish to give him Casterly Rock and name him Lord of the place, the only way to remove Jason Lannister is to kill him. And as your grace rightly pointed out, the people of Westeros are far too tired of war right now. Winter has come and gone, and summer is here. There must be time for the land to heal before we discuss war once more.”

Daemon sighed then. “Very well let the Lannisters discuss their treason. Tell your brother the sooner he gets his wife pregnant, the better is claim on the Rock shall be. Now what news has there been from Dorne?”

At this Ser Aegor spoke then. “Prince Qoren Martell is ill, most likely dying. His daughter and heir Princess Arianne has written to assure me that she will not allow the peace that was signed at Summerhall to go awry. She does not want that any more than we do.”

The master of Laws, Lord Lyonel Baratheon snorted at that and said. “Pah, we cannot trust the word of the vipers Your Grace. Has she mentioned what is to become of Lord Maron Uller?”

Ser Aegor sighs and says. “Maron Uller remains free from any retribution you might wish to enact on him my lord. He was acting in war, and as such Prince Qoren and Princess Arianne see no reason to punish him beyond what has happened.”

Before Lyonel can speak, Daemon asks. “What is the state of their armies? Are they still mobilising?”

Lord Reynard looks at his notes then and says. “Aye, it seems they are Your Grace. Lords Yronwood and Dayne are expanding their troop numbers as if preparing for an invasion. Though what more we could be doing to stop this I am not sure.”

Daemon nods then. “Very well let them build up their armies, if they invade, then the blood and the consequences are on them. The Vale, however, that is the one kingdom that must be brought to heal. They have Maegor Targaryen and so long as the boy lives, then my kingdom is not secure.”

At this Lord Reynard speaks once more. “There is more bad news on that front Your Grace. Maegor Targaryen has wed Alys Arryn sister of Lord Jon Arryn. This marriage it seems means to tie the Vale and the Targaryen boy closer together, thus giving them more strength and unity.”

Daemon sighs and asks. “Is there no way to cause chaos within the Vale itself? The moment that boy gets an heir they will invade. There must be some weakness in the Vale that we have not previously thought of.”

At this Aegor speaks. “There is the Three Sisters, they sided with us when your grandfather fought his first rebellion. They have always resented being under the control of the Vale. Give them leave to only do fealty to the throne and they should be more than willing to side with us and cause hell for the Arryns.”

“But how do we know they would be so willing to do so? On their own the Sisters are nothing more than a nuisance. They need a stronger ally to cause trouble, before they, themselves do so.” Lord Emmon Bar Emmon says.

“The north.” Daemon says. “The north and the Vale have always traditionally despised one another, we speak with the Starks and give them cause and reason and they would fight.”

“And what reasons would they for that Your Grace? Artos Stark kept the north out of the fourth and fifth Blackfyre rebellions and his nephew Lord Edwyle is not likely to bring his men into a cause he does not think to gain from.” Lord Desmond Redwyne says.

Daemon sighs for a moment. “I would say offerings of land but then if I do that, the lords of the Vale will continue to revolt even once Maegor is dead. No there must be something more that can bring them into this.”

“Artos Stark is dead from the fever, his brother Errold took the black. His brother Brandon always hungers for war as does Rodrik. Now that Artos has gone they will be whispering in their nephew’s ear about the benefits of glory. And with the realm as it is, you would wish to channel that into something beneficial for the throne Your Grace.” Aegor says.

“So you would suggest sending word to one of these brothers and allowing them to do the work for us?” Daemon asks.

“Yes Your Grace.” Aegor says. “I would recommend, sending the raven to Rodrik that man always hungers for blood, and I doubt he has changed much since becoming a father.”

Daemon nods. “Very well then, send the raven and we shall let the Starks decide amongst themselves.” He takes a sip of water then and says. “With all of this uncertainty in the realm, I have been thinking that perhaps it is time the royal progresses were restarted.”

Silence for a moment and Daemon expects there to be opposition to what he has just said, and so he is pleasantly surprised when Aegor says. “I believe that could be a good idea Your Grace. It would certainly give the lords and the smallfolk a facet to put to your name.”

Lord Lyonel also speaks up in agreement. “Aye, it would also remind the lords of the realm that you are truly here and not some figment of their imagination. The Targaryens lost touch with the realm after they stopped going on royal progresses.”

Lord Reynard then asks. “Which kingdoms would you go on in these progresses Your Grace and who would come with you?”

Lord Bar Emmon as the master of coin nods and says. “Aye, if you are to take the whole of the court or half the court then we shall need to set aside enough coin for the journey to be most profitable.”

Daemon shakes his head and says. “No, not half the court. The court remains here. I, my wife and my children shall be going on these progresses. Alongside six maesters and seven septons. I want no outside interference. We shall be starting in the Riverlands and heading to the West, the Reach, the north and the Iron Islands.”

The lords nod then and Bar Emmon says he will begin making the necessary arrangements. Later on that day, Daemon is sat in his solar with his wife Vaella and their children eight year old Aegon, six year old Gaemon and four year old Kiera.  During the years of his reign, his wife and children had proved to be a huge source of relief for him and as such he listened intently as Aegon spoke about what he had learnt in his lessons today. “And there was a war with Dorne that Aegon the Dragon fought, but he stopped fighting after he received a letter from Nymor Martell. What do you think was in that letter papa?”

Daemon looked at his oldest son and smiled somewhat. “I am not sure my boy. Perhaps it was Prince Nymor surrendering so that the Dragon did not have to show how good he was with a sword. Now what more have you learnt?”

“I learnt about the history of our family, and how my great grandfather was a true and honest knight and how he was prevented from getting what was rightfully his by the Targaryens.” Aegon said.

Daemon saw his wife tense then and said. “And what else did you learn?”

“I learnt about Lord Lyonel’s family’s history. Do you think I could see Storm’s End one day papa?” his son asked.

Daemon kissed his son’s hair and said. “Of course my boy, why you should be seeing it soon enough. Now go and play with your brother and sister I need to speak with your mother.”

His son nodded and then ran off to where Gaemon and Kiera were playing. Vaella looked at him then and then sat herself down on his lap. “So what’s this I hear of a visit to the Stormlands?”

Daemon laughs slightly. “Aye, I have decided that we as a family are going to go visit the kingdoms. There is too much trouble in Dorne and the Vale for us to go there, but elsewhere it would be good for the lords and the commons to see us. For them to know we have not forgotten them.”

“Like my family did?” Vaella asks teasingly, but Daemon can hear the hurt in her voice.

Daemon kisses her then and then says. “No my love. You never forgot anyone, and are not to be blamed for the single mindedness of your or my family. We shall raise our children as we see fit, not by some standard that was applicable fifty years ago.”

His wife smiles then and whispers to him. “Lady Mertyns was bringing up talk of perhaps having Kiera fostering with her, and Lady Stokeworth keeps on hinting at having Gaemon foster with them as well. It’s as if they are trying to take our children away from us.”

Daemon kissed his wife again and then said. “Do not worry my love, they won’t. I will not let them. I shall speak to Lord Mertyns tomorrow and have him set his wife straight. Soon enough Aegon will need to squire for someone, I cannot think of anyone better than Ser Aegor. But regardless there is much that will happen between then and now.”


	19. A Celebration/  A Death

**1 st Month of 245 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Aegor Rivers**

It was surprising for him, that he Ser Aegor Rivers known as Bittersteel actually found the peace and prosperity that came with it to be quite enjoyable. For so long all he had known was the daily struggle to stay alive, first in King’s Landing and Stone Hedge after his birth and then in Tyrosh in the years following the failed Blackfyre war. Now though his brother’s grandson sat the Iron Throne and the realm was largely secure, there were pockets that were still shrouded in uncertainty but they would soon be dealt with. The peace had also brought Aegor a chance to finally reconnect with his children and grandchildren, he had wed Calla Blackfyre, Daemon’s daughter in 195 A.C. a year before the rebellion had begun, and their first born son Daemon had been born in 198 A.C. when they were in Tyrosh, they had had three other children all sons, all of whom had died fighting one war or another. Daemon was still alive as were his sons, and as such Aegor had spent this time getting to know them and he was confident that once he was gone his children and grandchildren would continue on his hard work.

Right now he was in a small council meeting the king had called before he was due to depart for his first royal progress a smart move. “So has there been word from Winterfell and the Sisters as to whether or not they will aid us in dealing with the Arryns?” The king asked.

Aegor nodded. “Aye there has been, Lord Sunderland is most eager to break free from the Vale, and the offer of only being beholden to yourself, he writes is most appealing. As for the Starks, Lord Edwyle himself has written back to say that he would be more than delighted to wage war on the Vale, for one thing, if you can guarantee his sister’s safety then he will bring the Vale down himself.”

There was some murmuring at that and the king asked. “Is Lord Edwyle’s sister wed to one of Lord Jon Arryn’s bannermen? Is that why he worries?”

Aegor nods. “She is wed to Lord Benedict Royce, Lord of Runestone. The man is a devout follower of the Arryns and should the Starks attack the Vale it is likely that the man will kill his wife to protect his lord.”

The king sighs runs a hand through his hair and then asks. “Do we have any means of letting the lady and her daughter escape from the castle without alerting the lord to our intentions?”

Lord Reynard speaks then. “We do, two of my mine are currently in the Vale under the employ of Lord Royce. Working as men at arms. They often spend time in close proximity to Lady Stark and her daughter. And as such if we were to figure out a covert way to get to her and then get her and her daughter out, then they would be able to come up with the plan and do it without anyone being any the wiser.”

The king nods. “Good write to these men and tell them to get started. The sooner Lady Stark is out of the way, the sooner we can begin making our plans for this war. Write to Lord Sunderland and tell him to begin readying his ships for war. We must write to Tyrosh as well, a fleet will need to sack Gulltown.”

At this Lord Desmond Redwyne speaks up. “You do not wish to engage the Royal Fleet in this task Your Grace?”

The king shakes his head and says. “No. The throne must be kept out of this for now. Until Targaryen declares war, the throne plays no part in the war. That is why Tyrosh must come into play. Gulltown must be seized or sacked one of the two.”

Aegor speaks then. “A wise move Your Grace. Now there is one other issue that has become a pressing concern. Lord Corlys Velaryon has been building up his fleet and his man power for some time. When pressed as to why he has been doing this his responses has been vague and unclear. But I do believe we have found a reason why.”

The king looks at him and asks. “Oh and what could these reasons be?”

Aegor looks at Lord Bar Emmon who nods. “Corlys Velaryon has been hiring sell sails and sellswords for about a year now, the man is preparing himself for a war that the Targaryen boy is like to declare any day now. Either that or he is preparing to use his claim to the throne to declare himself king.”

At this the king looks shocked. “How does this man have a claim to the Iron Throne? And why was I not made aware of this earlier?”

Aegor sighs. “Because the man’s claim is a distant one. You are aware of how Elaena Targaryen wed thrice? Once to Ossifer Plumm and once to Ronnel Penrose?” When the king nods Aegor goes on. “Well a daughter of Princess Elaena Jocelyn I believe her name was wed Lord Alton Velaryon and as a result their son Corlys has a claim. It is my belief that the man will be planning for a campaign should Maegor die without issue.”

The king’s jaw tightens at that and then he says. “Bring the man here. I want him to answer for this before I leave.”

Aegor nods and then says. “Now perhaps we should talk about the celebrations for your great grandmother’s one hundredth birthday?”

The king nods then and says. “Very well, what has been planned?”

“Well first of all the High Septon is insisting that there be some service in the morning of the day, so that we can all pray and sing praises of Princess Daena. Then there will be a royal procession through the streets of King’s Landing, followed by a tourney and a feast later.” Aegor responds.

“And who all are coming to the feast?” The king asks.

“The lords of the crownlands, Lords Tully, Bracken and Darry as well as Lords from the West and the Reach.” Aegor responded.

“Very well then.” The king responds.

With that the small council meeting comes to an end and four days later, Aegor finds himself in the Great Sept of Baelor, whilst he has never been a truly religious man, how could he be after all the things he’s seen? He finds the things the High Septon droning on and on about truly tedious and somewhat false. This man never knew Princess Daena or the first Daemon, he never knew the love and the pain those two people felt. He is only doing this to curry favour with the King, the king who despises the faith and what it stands for. Whilst he long ago came to accept the game and the role they all play in it, there are times when it does truly frustrate him and he wishes that he could just kill all the bad players and move on with things.

Thankfully the pain of the service comes to an end once the High Septon invokes the name of the seven and blesses Princess Daena, and Daemon, and then from there they move onward. The crowds are gathered already in front of the Sept, and Aegor thinks that if someone wished to kill them, now would be the perfect opportunity. Instead they all mount their horses with the Queen and the royal family in a litter, accompanied by the king on his warhorse and the Kingsguard, and they ride forth through the streets of King’s Landing. It is truly surprising for Aegor, seeing people cheering for a Blackfyre, they had never cheered for him, and now though they cheer all the louder for it, and so he waves but he knows they are truly cheering for their king. Daemon has an aura about him that his grandfather had, it draws people to him and makes them undyingly loyal to him.  They pass through the streets, the King occasionally stopping to speak with people and on it goes until they get to the tourney grounds where the true action begins.

The tourney held today will span over a few days as will the celebrations, but nonetheless it has attracted many knights and lords from all around. The first two jousters are Lord Oscar Tully and Lord Roger Reyne. It takes Reyne four tilts before he unhorses Tully much to the joy of the crowd. Next are Ser Davos Redtusk and Ser Gawen Rivers of the Kingsguard, they break some ten lances before Ser Davos emerges victorious. On and on the tourney goes with much cheering and applause from the crowd so far it seems to be going, well until Maelys comes forward, Maelys the two headed monstrosity who had been given Summerhall by the king to keep him out of the way, he had beaten three other competitors and is facing Ser Davos in the final tilt of the day. They break some twelve lances before Maelys knocks the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard from his horse and proceeds to dismount and make his way to the man. Before he can do anything though the King calls an end to the day. And they retire to the Red Keep for the feast.

The feast itself is something to behold, Aegor remembers the feast that was held in the Red Keep to celebrate Daenaerys marriage to Maron Martell, and he thinks that personally this one is much better than that one. The food tastes sweet and succulent, the wine tastes just right and it seems the nobles of the court and those who have come from elsewhere are truly enjoying themselves. The king and queen seem happy as do their children, and Aegor’s son Daemon is in conversation with Lady Ellyn Tarbeck. “It seems all has gone well my prince.” Lord Reynard says.

Aegor nods. “Indeed it has. It is a relief my lord for I had thought for one second that Maelys would cause it to go wrong.”

Lord Reynard laughs slightly and says. “Aye so did I truth be told. But our king but a stop to that.”

Aegor nods and is about to respond when Ser Davos Redtusk comes up to him and says. “My lord hand, there is a man from the City Watch asking to speak with you. He says it is urgent.”

Aegor sighs. “Very well, excuse me my lord.” He follows Ser Davos and then once they are outside the throne room, he tells the man to wait a little ways away. He then turns to the man who stands there looking anxious, he cannot be older than twenty. “What is it that was so urgent you wished to speak to me?”

The man says this. “I am sorry my lord hand. But this is for my father.” With that he punches Aegor in the stomach and then plunges a dagger into his chest.

As the world begins going black, Aegor cares not for the dagger merely in ensuring the assassin does not get any further he grabs the man’s collar and pulls him in kneeing him several times before calling for Ser Davos Redtusk, by the time the Lord Commander comes there are two bodies. The assassin and Aegor’s, he manages to mumble two words to the man before dying. “Darklyns, king.”

Aegor Rivers, known as Bittersteel, hand of the king and the golden sword, dies on the twelfth day of the first month of the 245th year after Aegon’s Conquest. The man who fought to see his brother’s descendants sit on the throne, dies with a curse upon his lips and the deaths of hundreds on his mind, as well as that of his one love, Shiera. The man may rest now, beneath the gold, the bitter steel. 


	20. Storm Hand

**3 rd  Month of 245 A.C.: King’s Landing**

**Lord Lyonel Baratheon**

He can still see the shock and the anger in the King’s eyes when they were shown Ser Aegor Rivers body. Hells he can still feel the shock and anger he himself felt. That someone would dare do this now, when the realm was at peace, removing someone who for so long had championed the king’s cause, well it was only natural that the king be out for blood. Lyonel had wondered as they had seen Ser Aegor’s body go up in flames, who would succeed the man as hand of the king, and he had seen those former exile lords begin vying for power, there was the man’s own son Ser Daemon Bittersteel a good warrior but a poor politician, there was Lord Edward Strickland a cunning man but with no real allies, and then there was Lord Unwin Peake a good warrior and a clever man. All held some place of importance at court, and were vying for the position, but Lyonel had been surprised when the king had named him hand. It was something he had not expected but it had been something that he would do, and do well. He was doing his best, but there was a weight on his shoulders, the stares of the former exiles who felt slighted and wondered what he had that they did not, and the need to keep the king calm, due to the near state of apocalyptic rage he was in. Thankfully it seemed Lord Reynard had followed through and delivered them some good news.

“You are sure that these men can provide us with reliable information for ending the threat to the king and getting to the bottom of all of this?” Lyonel asked the master of whispers.

The man nodded. “Yes my lord hand. I have done everything I know how to get them ready to speak, and speak truthfully. They know what will befall them if they try and speak a lie.”

Lyonel sighs then. “Very well, let us get this over and done with.” They walk into the room where two members of the Gold Cloaks are sat, chained and bound and bleeding. Lyonel takes a deep breath and then asks. “Do you know why you are here?”

One of the men, whom he recalls being called Ser Luthor Rivers speaks then. “Because we were friends with Edgar Ryger. And because we know something about what he was going to do.”

Lyonel nods and then says. “Now tell me all you know about Ser Edgar and what he thought and said about the king. And there might be some leeway I can get you. If you lie, or if I think you are lying to me, you shall both die.”

The other man, a big broad shouldered oaf speaks then. “You can try all you like. I will not betray Edgar’s memory like this.”

Lyonel sighs and motions to Ser Maegor Bittersteel of the Kingsguard to unsheathe his sword. “You have one chance to get your freedom. Do not waste it.”

The oaf remains silent and Lyonel sighs and nods, Bittersteel drags his sword against the man’s skin and as the man screams in pain, Rivers speaks hurriedly. “Ryger was always talking about getting revenge for the death of his father.”

That gets Lyonel’s interest and he asks. “And why would he want revenge for the death of his father?”

Rivers hesitates for a moment and at the sound of the blade dragging across his friend’s skin prompts him to answer. “Because his father fought and died during the first Blackfyre rebellion my lord. Edgar was but a boy, and he knew from his cousin that his father had been slain by Ser Aegor. Even though we all tried to tell him it was in a war he would never listen to sense, and always tried to get duty near Ser Aegor so he could do as he did.”

“And did he ever mention how he was going to kill Ser Aegor?” Lyonel asks.

“No my lord hand. He only ever ranted about killing the man, but his methods always changed. He never knew how he was going to do it for real.” Rivers responds.

Lyonel nods and then asks. “So who got him that close to Ser Aegor then during the feast? He must have had a contact with power in court.”

Rivers nods then. “Yes my lord, he did my lord. Someone from the crownlands who worked with the hand very closely, and thought they could benefit from the chaos his death would cause. That was what Edgar said anyway. I did know whether or not to believe him.”

Lyonel looks at Lord Reynard and then asks. “And did Edgar ever mention who this contact at court was?”

Rivers shakes his head and then says. “He did not. Though I overheard a conversation between him and a man with dark black hair and grey eyes. The man mentioned something about Duskendale and a ship waiting for the right time.”

Lyonel looks at Reynard then and sighs, so it is the Darklyns just as they suspected. “Very well,” he says. “Thank you for your help good sers, you are free to go.” He walks out of the room and walks towards the king’s room, where the king is sat talking to his wife and queen, though they stop talking when they see Lyonel. “We got the information Your Grace.” Lyonel says. “It was the Darklyns as we thought. With help from the Rygers.”

The king nods and then says. “We ride out at first light tomorrow. They will all be dead by the time I am done.”

Lyonel nods and then walks out, and in the morning he is armoured and riding out with the King, two knights of the Kingsguard and 5,000 men of the Golden Company. They send no warning ahead to Duskendale and so when they find the gates open, the king merely says. “Leave the innocents alive. Find anyone related to the Darklyns and kill them.”

With that the king rides on, and Lyonel takes charge of some of the men and rides through following the king, they go to the port first, and Lyonel shouts. “In the name of King Daemon Blackfyre, first of his name. If there are any Darklyns here or their relations come out and surrender. Or face the wrath of the sword.”

The people in the dock are silent for a long moment and then a man whom Lyonel recognises as Ser Jonos Hollard steps forward and asks. “And why should we do that? We have done nothing wrong.”

Lyonel laughs then and says. “Oh but you have Hollard. We know for a fact that the Darklyns and the Hollards took part in the planning the death of Ser Aegor. Now will you surrender or die?”

Hollard draws his sword then and says. “I will never surrender to an usurper.” Other men come and stand beside Hollard.

Lyonel sighs, deciding to make things honourable, he dismounts from his horse and his men do the same, and then he walks towards Ser Jonos and says. “You do not need to do this Ser Jonos. Drop your steel and allow me to escort you to the Dun Fort and this can end well for you and your family.”

Hollard spits. “Fight me or die.” He steps forward and swings, Lyonel ducks and then draws his own sword and their dance begins. Hollard is fighting erratically, swinging his sword here and there, with no particular purpose, swinging and hacking at air, Lyonel blocks most of the man’s blows and the other blows that he does not block usually just glance off of his armour.

Once the man begins tiring out, Lyonel begins his own barrage, swinging his sword, hacking and swinging, ducking and dodging, swinging and hacking. Cutting through the man’s armour, denting it in several places the dance continues. Swinging and hacking, cutting, blocking and dodging, swinging, hacking, ducking, blocking, the dance continues. Lyonel feints to the right and then brings his knee up into Hollard’s chest and then buries his sword in the man’s chest when he is still bent over. He looks to his second in command Ser Damon Morrigen. “Kill anyone who does not surrender.”

Lyonel gets back on his horse and then rides towards the Dun Fort, killing any man foolish enough to come in his way. Eventually he arrive at the Dun Fort to find its gates thrown wide open, the guards buried in arrows, and he laughs somewhat then, the king clearly wasted no time in dealing with them. When he and his own men arrive, they find fighting going on still, and so they join the fray. With Lyonel swinging and hacking away at men like someone possessed it is no surprise that the fighting ends. The king he later learns took an injury fighting Lord Darklyn, and so is back getting treated to. In the king’s name, Lyonel orders the execution of all of House Darklyn. Men, women and children all die to the headsman’s sword, and Lyonel does not blink an eye.

When the king commands him to ride for Willow’s Wood and speak with the Rygers he nods and does so. What he finds at Willow’s Wood makes him sad, instead of wishing to speak Lord Tristian Ryger has called his men together and looks ready for a war. Lyonel orders his archers to take out the front line and when Lord Tristian eventually surrenders after the death of his wife and little daughter, Lyonel sighs and tells him. “You will die now as well.” And so the man and his heirs are killed one by one, their heads sent back to King’s Landing as a warning to those who would cross the king. Willow’s Wood is torn down by Lyonel’s order, the materials taken back to King’s Landing.

He returns to King’s Landing having removed the threat to the king and the royal family, and the king throws a feast for him, celebrating his achievements and then later much later, once the feasting is done the king summons him to his royal chamber and says. “You did what needed to be done Lyonel. Now that the Darklyns and the Rygers are dead, that should make the Lannisters and the Arryns think twice before they try anything in the future. I am naming Daemon Bittersteel Prince of Duskendale and giving him and his heirs the Dun Fort for the remainder of time. But that is not the reason I asked you here. With this done, I need to know if you believe it makes sense to still travel to the Riverlands first or not.”

Lyonel is silent a moment. “Lord Oscar did not state any protest to what was done to the Rygers, and as a result of that I do feel it might do well to continue onward with going to the Riverlands as the starting point. After all the Riverlands are always the first place to be subject to war, should anything happen they need to see the royal family and know they are not forgotten.”

The king nodded and then said. “Very well. Now whilst I am gone there is something I need for you to do.”

“Anything Your Grace. What would you have me do?” Lyonel asks.

“Keep an eye on Lord Bar Emmon. I have a feeling he might be speaking more than he should with Corlys Velaryon. I know he is your bannerman, but there is something about him that makes me thing he is up to something.” The king responds.

Lyonel says. “Of course Your Grace.”

With that the king dismisses him, and then two days later Lyonel bids farewell to the king, the queen and their children, as they ride out with six knights of the Kingsguard including the Lord Commander Ser Davos Redtusk. Lyonel hopes that this progress will help settle the underlying tensions that are still present in the kingdom. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders what would have happened had Duncan the small not wed Jenny of Oldstones, then he discards the thought and walks back into the Red Keep, he has a kingdom to run.


	21. A Visit

**Sixth Month of 245 A.C. Riverrun**

**King Daemon I Blackfyre**

It had been five months since Ser Aegor Rivers, known as Bittersteel and the only true father figure Daemon had ever known had died, murdered by some nut job who harboured a grudge about deaths in war. It still surprised Daemon that the man was dead, he remembered thinking as a child that Ser Aegor was invincible, he always seemed to be so strong and in control of everything, that was Daemon supposed that himself and his fellow former exiles were all so lost and confused. Daemon had spoken to those families who had first followed his uncle into exile, and none of them could ever remember a time where the man was not there, standing strong through defeats and victories and always, always doing his part to ensure the Blackfyre caused continued to burn bright. Daemon missed him, and he always would, but there was no point constantly mourning him, he was the king after all. Besides Aegor would not want him mourning him too much.

Right now though, he was in Riverrun and was trying not to snap as he watched two grown men argue over something as petty as a hill shaped like a tit. “My lords Bracken and Blackwood, you both claim Missy’s Teats as yours. And yet the maesters here in this court have said that the land has always been contested and never at one point in time solidly belonged to either of your houses. Now would you care to tell me what this is truly about?”

Lord Bracken burst out then. “The man’s son has no honour or pride. A true savage, he has taken liberties with my daughter and has refused to wed her!”

“Lies, Your Grace. This man speaks in falsehoods! My Ben would never do something like that. I raised him to be a good an honourable man. More than likely it is the Bracken whore who has entrapped him, she has a reputation for being a harlot.” Blackwood responds.

Daemon sighs. “So this is what your argument is truly about? Whether or not Ben Blackwood has had his way with your daughter Lord Bracken? And this argument got so heated you felt the need to come and bring it before myself? Truly? Bring the two people in question here and let us have done with it.”

When both men hesitate, Daemon’s eyes narrow. “Why are you so hesitant to have this put to an end my lords? Unless there is something more that you wish to speak on?”

When both men look at one another and then Bracken speaks. “There is actually Your Grace. Whilst we know that there has been some lingering tension since the end of the war, we would like to know what is happening to Harrenhal. House Whent died in the fighting and since then the castle has sat empty and barren, and it is not good for us or for trade.”

“Are you suggesting that I put one of you two as Lord of Harrenhal, and charge you with repairing the damn thing?” Daemon asks.

Both men look aghast at that and say. “No Your Grace that is not what we are asking at all. We were just wondering if you were going to place one of your allies here in the Riverlands in the castle or if you were going to place someone from the Golden Company there.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow once more and he asks. “What business is that of yours my lords? Whom I name there is none of your concern. Now tell me is there anything else you wished to discuss?”

At this Lord Blackwood speaks then. “Yes, as a follower of the Old Gods, I know the importance of the Isle of Faces, and I wish to know what sort of things are going to be done to ensure that the Green Men continue to serve and protect the isle’s secrets as they have done since the pact.”

A curious request and one that Daemon is not sure how to respond to, thankfully Lord Oscar comes to his rescue then and says. “That is a matter for another time my lord of Blackwood. I am sure you can understand that the King needs some more time to truly understand the way the Isle of Faces run, perhaps you can be a guide for him at some point?” Blackwood nods, and then Lord Tully turns to him and asks. “There is one thing that all the lords of the Riverlands are wondering. What is to happen to Willow’s Wood Your Grace?”

At this Daemon takes a sip of wine and then says. “I can indeed. First I will say that the next house to rise up against the crown will not be afforded the luxury of a quick death as House Ryger and House Darklyn were. Instead they will be captured and every member shall be given over to the King’s Inquisition for questioning, in a manner that would leave even myself most appalled and uneasy. There will be no leeway this time round. So keep that in mind my lords. As for Willow’s Wood, well I intend to hold a tournament within the next year or so to decide who should get the lands, incomes and the titles of House Ryger. All of these things would of course go to the winner of the tourney. And all those not the most direct heir of their house are willing to compete for the honour.”

There is some murmuring then and then Lord Tully says. “Very good decision Your Grace. A good way of ensuring loyalty as it will mean that those competing will be doing so for the right reasons and for nothing else. But Lord Blackwood and Bracken were right, what of Harrenhal?”

Daemon sighs once more and says simply. “As of just now I am not sure. House Whent proved themselves disloyal to the crown when the Rygers refused to surrender. And just now there is the matter of other things to settle. Perhaps when the time is right the castle may go to my son Gaemon, until then it shall remain under the care of a castellan.”

There is some murmuring at that and then Lord Walder Frey speaks. “And what of trade? Since the Darklyns have been taken out, and Lord Mooton is too old to do anything, trade is slowly falling here in the Riverlands. What are we to make of that Your Grace?”

Daemon sighs he does not like Walder Frey, remembers hearing stories about the prickly old bastard from when he lived in Tyrosh and he merely says. “Seagard is still seeing a lot of trade with the Iron Islands and King’s Landing is seeing trade from the Free Cities. SO unless you wish to personally do something about Lord Mooton, you shall just have to be patient Lord Walder.”

The man snorts then and replies. “So you are going to do nothing for now? What good is that, if I have a family to feed that requires more than just relying on northern savages.”

At this Daemon finds his patience beginning to wear thin. “Then stop fucking anything that moves and keep your cock within your trousers. And the next time you speak out of turn, I might just remove your tongue.”

The lords laugh at that and Walder Frey turns red and sits down. Lord Darry speaks then. “Your Grace, I was wondering what you intend to do about the Vale? They still harbour the Targaryen pretender and it seems they are mobilising.”

Daemon sighs and asks. “Has there been any sign that they mean to descend from their path in the Mountains?”

Lord Darry shakes his head. “No Your Grace. But the signs are there, in the days before the conquest, it always started off with a mustering of men and then the mountain clans were sent raiding. Sooner or later that will happen.”

There are murmurs of agreement, and Daemon looks at the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard Ser Davos Redtusk stood just a bit behind him and then he merely says. “Then, take heart from the fact that soon enough the Vale will not have the strength to convince the mountain clans to raid the Riverlands. For they will face rebellion and an invasion from the north.”

At this Lord Blackwood asks. “You have convinced the Starks to raid the Vale? I would have thought they would have not have anything to do with the south?”

“They remembered who it was who fed them through the winter.” Daemon replies. And then he says. “Still whilst that is going on, I do want all the Riverlords to be ready in case the Valemen decide to play rogue. Now if there is nothing else, I wish to retire.”

Much later he is sat in Lord Tully’s solar drinking wine with the man, when Lord Tully says. “That was a bold thing you did Your Grace, keeping Harrenhal open and free like that. Not many others would have done such a thing. Especially not Aegon the fortunate.”

“Then it is a good thing I am not he. Harrenhal is a burden that the realm cannot afford just now. There is too much going on at the moment for me to truly feel comfortable allowing it into anyone else’s hands. Besides with the Targaryen boy still alive, we need him dead and the resources from the Vale before I look towards anything else.” Daemon responds.

“A wise move Your Grace. Though if I might be so bold, do you not have one Targaryen serving as your squire?” Tully asks.

“Daeron? Yes well I did. The boy has earned his spurs against the Darklyns, he is loyal to a fault but he will not leave King’s Landing. Nor do his interests span to the opposite sex.” Daemon responds.

“What do you intend to do with him then Your Grace?” Oscar asks.

“He wishes to join the Kingsguard, and when the tourney for Willow’s Wood is held he will join the order. That is all that there is to that my lord. Now there is something I wished to speak with you about. You have two sons do you not?” when the man nods Daemon goes on. “Good, I want them to foster at court. It is time my heir came to know those who will one day by his lords bannermen. Time to foster closer relations between the throne and its lords paramount.”

“This is an honour Your Grace, truly it is. Would the boys leave with you as well when you travel to the Westerlands?” Oscar asks.

Daemon nods. “Yes, it would be best that they begin learning things from one another as early as possible. And when the time is right, we might have the bonds of friendship to see this kingdom into the age of peace and prosperity that the Targaryens failed to bring.”

Lord Oscar nodded and then said. “I must say that though I appreciate you bringing down Walder Frey, I fear the man might have taken greater offense to it that one might normally do. The man is prickly and though he will not do anything of note now, in a few years there might come a time when he holds this over you and yours.”

Daemon sighs then and says. “The man may do what he wishes. If he ever tries to threaten me or mine, he and his will die a painful death. Now what do you know about Lord Lefford?”

“Lyman Lefford?” Tully asks. “A prickly man with a deep sense of right and wrong. He has many children, some of whom he wishes were elsewhere. Be careful of that, he might well try and foist them off on you and accept no word of denial for it. Then there are his daughters, he might very well look to wed one of them to your eldest son and heir. He is also someone who can stem the tide against any Lannister sentiment returning with the lords and common folk. He knows how to play the game and play it well.”


	22. Wolf

**Ninth Month of 245 A.C.: Sisterton**

**Lord Edwyle Stark**

Growing up, Edwyle had had barely any memories of his father or his mother, his mother had died when he was only three giving birth to his sister Jocelyn, his father had died when he was three as well, fighting the wildlings. And so it had fallen to his uncle and aunt Artos and Lysara to raise him and his sister. His uncle was a stern and angry man whose praise one earned, it was not given lightly, and as such Edwyle was often scared of his uncle, though he cherished what praise he was given by the man as dearly as he could. And so when his uncle had died roughly two years ago, Edwyle had had a statue made of him and placed it in the crypts of Winterfell alongside his own father. His aunt Lysara had been a kind and gentle woman who had loved his uncle dearly and had been the one to kiss away any hurts Edwyle or his sister Jocelyn had had as children, she still that today old as she was. As for his cousins Brandon and Benjen, they were two completely different men, Brandon was joyful and full of life, and Benjen was distant and cold. And then there was his sister Jocelyn, wed to one of those fools in the Vale, she was a strong woman, kind and caring but also very able to defend herself, and yet with the troubles in the realm right now he feared for her.

That had been the main reason why he had been so eager to allow his men to get into the fighting in the Vale that the King had proposed, his sister’s safety was paramount to him right now, as well as giving his men a chance to stay battle ready and gather some loot. Right now, sat as they were in House Sunderland’s castle with Lord Sunderland, Borrell and Goodthorpe here as well as some of his own trusted bannermen, Edwyle found himself wanting to bash some heads in. “So what you are essentially saying Lord Sunderland, is that unless we land in the Bite and march up through the northern mountains we might as well count this invasion as a no go.”

Lord Sunderland a grey and grizzled man nodded. “Aye that is what I am saying Lord Stark. We do not have enough ships to begin sailing at places such as Coldwater and forming an attack there. Sail to the northern mountains and we can march from there.”

Lord Borrell contends that. “That is not true. A portion of the fleet can land at Coldwater and begin a campaign there, another part can reach in the northern mountains and march from there. Another part can sail to Gulltown and begin from there. Landing all the men at the northern mountains is in itself suicide.”

Lord Torrhen Manderly speaks then. “That makes sense. We cannot avoid to be picked off in the mountains. Sending men to different places and attacking at different times will confuse the Vale and make them wonder where to turn their attention to first.”

Lord Sunderland speaks then. “Coldwater is someone who wants to submit to the Blackfyres, surely sacking his lands is not necessary? There must be another place we can led our ships and men?”

“Unless you want to go to Snakewood and take a chance there, then Coldwater is the only place we can go. Besides Coldwater is saying he wants to side with the Blackfyres but he openly covets wedding his granddaughter to the Targaryen boy’s son. He must go and his family with him.” Borrell replies.

“Bah, wherever we go there will be war and these pansy Valemen will be taught the true meaning of war and woe. The only question which men will come out to fight and die.” Lord Dorren Umber said boldly.

Lord Borrell smiled at that and said. “Rest assured my lord, there will be plenty of fighting to be had. So long as Maegor Targaryen lives, Jon Arryn will fight until the death to see the boy on the throne. And as such the Lords of the Vale will blindly follow him to their doom.”

Lord Dorren guffaws then. “To their woe. They will meet steel and fire when they come to meet us in the field of battle.”

Before the man can begin more boasts, Edwyle speaks his voice soft. “Now where would you suggest the bulk of the army lands then Lord Borrell?”

All the lords look surprised to hear him speak, for he does not often speak during such things, at least not whilst his uncle was alive, now though, he has grown tired of the constant discussion and wishes for action. Lord Borrell is seemingly pondering this question and then he replies. “I would say land a portion say no more than 2,000 men in the northern mountains under the command to a man who can be cautious and careful, for the mountains can be treacherous at best. Coldwater would be the best place to land the majority of the army my lord, for it is on the coast and from there we can march inland without too much fear.”

Lord Edwyle nods. “Very well then I want a portion of the fleet sent towards the northern mountains under the command of Lord Sunderland, you are to march from the mountains and head inland as much as possible. I shall command the portion of the fleet sailing for Coldwater. Another part will sail for Snakewood and deal with the Lynderlys. Lord Bolton you shall have command of that host. From there we shall all endeavour to meet near Strongsong or as close to the coastal regions as possible.”

With that the war council meeting comes to an end, and the next morning at first light, they set sail three different portions of the Sisters fleet sailing for three different locations. Edwyle takes the captain’s cabin and spends much of his time on the main ship named the Proudland, feeling slightly sick, though at different points he speaks to his uncle Rodrik. “It never gets easier you know. Travelling by ship, us Starks are not built for it. There was a reason why Brandon burnt his ships all those years ago.”

Edwyle merely says. “Aye, but perhaps it would have been better had he not done so. For we have always been vulnerable at sea since then. And perhaps with the chaos that has come with the downfall of the Targaryens there must needs be a northern fleet once more.”

His uncle looks at him then. “What are you suggesting Edwyle?”

“Nothing Nuncle. I am merely stating the obvious. For too long we have been vulnerable from attacks at sea, I am merely saying that perhaps it is time that was changed. A northern fleet could go a long way, as could another coastal town on Sea Dragon Point.” Edwyle responds.

“And where will you get the funds for such a project nephew?” Rodrik asks.

Edwyle sighs. “From the loot we get from this war. I am not naïve Nuncle. I know what happens in war, and I intend to use the things we gain from this one, to benefit the north. We need money, we shall get money, we need wood and other supplies for what I have planned, and we shall get them from the Vale.”

“And what will you do to convince the Iron Throne that this is not a sign of belligerency?” his uncle asks.

“I will tell them that I have fought their war for them and that this is for the north to decide not for them.” Edwyle responds.

His uncle merely says. “I hope you are right in going with this approach.”

Four days later they arrive on the banks of Shivering Sea that come into Coldwater, and they find an army waiting for them. Lord Jason Coldwater comes forth under a banner of parlay and says. “I do not wish to fight you my lord Stark. I wish to ally with you and end this fighting before it begins.”

Edwyle looks at the man and then asks. “And what guarantee do I have that this is not just a ruse and you do not have men waiting to ambush me and mine over at Coldwater?”

Lord Jason looks insulted by that and says. “The men you see behind you are all the men I can muster. I have brought them here today, to show that I mean you no harm. I mean to accept Daemon Blackfyre as my king and help you end the fighting that the Vale is doing.”

Edwyle is silent for a moment and then he says. “Then tell your men to lay down their weapons, and bend the knee now and we can move onto your castle.”

Edwyle expects the man to protest and so is thoroughly surprised when he orders his men to lay their swords down and they do, he is even more surprised when Jason Coldwater dismounts and gets to one knee before saying. “I Jason Coldwater, Lord of Coldwater Burn, do hereby pledge myself to the one true king of Westeros, Daemon Blackfyre first of his name. And do swear to defend his realm against all invaders and pledge my loyalty to him, from this day to my last.” With that the man stands gets back on his horse and rides back to his castle, with Edwyle and his assortment of northmen and sistermen following.

Once they arrive at the castle, as if to reinforce his point, Lord Jason is quick to offer them salt and bread. Guest Right invoked, he offers them all a place to sit and then says. “I will be honest with you Lord Edwyle, I did not want to fight you. My sworn men advised me against it and it makes sense. The Vale might stand beside Jon Arryn and his insanity, but I cannot afford to do so. I lost a lot in the Blackfyre war, and I do not want to see more loss.”

Edwyle is surprised by this. “You claim to not want more loss, and then you say you will aid me in my war against your liege lord. Which one is it?”

Lord Jason smiles at this. “I said I would aid you, not that I would fight alongside you. I can tell you right now that the attack at Snakewood is doomed to fail, the Lynderlys are too strong for a raiding party to best. As for the northern mountains well, let us just say that there are some things not even the Arryns attempted to do. You would have been better landing elsewhere along the coast and moving in from there.”

Edwyle is taken aback by this and asks. “How did you know where my men would be landing Lord Jason?”

Coldwater smiles then and says. “There is a spy amongst your lords my lord. A man known for his fickle nature. He and I were friends in our youth and he wrote to me and informed me of what was to happen. Do not worry though I have not told the other lords of your presence or plans, I despise the Arryns and the Targaryens too much to allow that. Now then where do you plan on heading next?”

Edwyle is silent for a moment then responds. “Perhaps Strongsong or Heart’s Home. I must see to it that the men of the Vale are beaten and broken.”

“You are aware that the men of the mountains, the wildlings will come down and cause your men trouble. And the Eyrie will hire sellswords to fight you off as well. There will be a lot of fighting to come. And your sister may very well not even be nearby when you are done.” Coldwater states.

Edwyle tenses then but manages to keep his voice even when he asks. “What do you know about my sister Coldwater?”

The man smiles once more. “I know that she is in Runestone right now, but the minute they learn of your presence she is going to the Eyrie.”

Edwyle is about to respond when his uncle Rodrik arrives and whispers in his ear. “Word from Snakewood, the castle has fallen. Lord Lynderly is dead.”

Edwyle smiles then. “It seems you were wrong about Snakewood. Now then Heart’s Home or Strongsong?”


	23. Bronze

**Fourth Month of 246 A.C. Runestone**

**Lord Yorwyck Royce**

The northmen and the sistermen had decided that now was a good time to invade the Vale, and they were feeling the consequences because of that. Already Coldwater, Snakewood and Strongsong had fallen with Heart’s Home under siege. It seemed that they were losing the battle, Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale was mustering men close to the eyrie in preparation for a big battle, but until that host was ready it was Yorwyck’s job to ensure the northmen got no further than Old Anchor where they were currently stationed. Jon Arryn was a good man, worthy of respect, an honourable man doing what he believed to be right, and the boy he was protecting, Maegor Targaryen the last of the Targaryens whilst being young, untested and rash, was a good lad who would make a fine king Yorwyck was certain of it. As to the situation that his cousin Benedict and Benedict’s family found themselves in at the Gates of the Moon, well Yorwyck felt sorry for them, they were caught between the snake and the prey and as a result Yorwyck desperately hoped Edwyle Stark had a good head on his shoulders.

Sighing slightly Yorwyck brought his focus back to the matters at hand. “Where are the northmen stationed at present then?”

Lord Ghaston Shett speaks then. “The northmen under the command of Lord Willam Ryswell are currently camped at the Sweet Sound, though as we all know Lord Edwyle and his men hold Old Anchor, whilst Lord Sunderland leads the siege of Heart’s Home.”

“How long can we expect Heart’s home to last? After all Lord Corbray is an old man and his sons have never been known for their patience.” Yorwyck asks.

Shett responds. “As long as needs be. My sister is wed to Ser Jaime Corbray, and she has often told me of the strength and steel behind the man’s quiet demeanour. So long as he knows what is at stake he will never surrender to Sunderland. His honour and pride would not allow it.”

Yorwyck nods. “Aye that is true, the man has an iron sense of determination. But I am not sure how long I wish to test that sense of determination. Sunderland is a bitter man, not someone you want to test for too long. Unless Lord Arryn sends reinforcements up soon Corbray will need to surrender or risk breaking. We must act, and act soon.”

“What do you suggest then father?” Yorwyck’s son Andar asks. “There are northmen not two days ride away from us. We cannot march to Heart’s Home without taking great risk to our own person. Coldwater has already forsworn himself to the Vale and added his strength to Stark’s. There must be another way.”

“There is no other way. We cannot remain in Runestone whilst our fellows fight and bleed against the northmen and the pirates. I will not allow it! We shall need to form a plan that will ensure that we take minimum losses but ensure maximum damage to the northmen. Sweet Sound must be freed.” Yorwyck states.

“How though? Willam Ryswell has an almost iron grip on the place, the sound has men covering its left, right and middle grounds. There is not a hope in hell that we can get there without a lot of bloodshed.” Lord Shett bemoans.

Yorwyck slams his hand down onto the table and says. “There is a hope if I say there is a hope Shett. I will not let the northmen hold the Sound. That land has belonged to my family for years beyond count, and no barbarians are going to take that away from me and mine.”

“Then how do you suggest we retake it then father? Ryswell has some 2,000 men holding the Sound. We have at best some 500 men, ill trained and not well adjusted to fighting such a large force.” His son Andar states.

Cursing he says. “Then we make a deal with the clansmen, and we do it now whilst we still can before the northmen turn to them.”

“Father you cannot be serious. The clansmen would rather have us gouged alive then ever treat with us. That is suicide.” Andar counters.

“Enough. I will see it done. The Sweet Sound shall be ours. It will never belong the northmen. Not so long as I draw breath. Shett, go with your men and ride to find the clansmen bring them on board. Remind them who spared them the first time round.” Yorwyck says. When Shett nods and gets up and leaves, Yorwyck looks to the room at large and says. “We must be ready to march even without the clansmen. Shett knows that we shall wait for four days no more, if they are not here on the fifth day we ride. We must break through the left half of the northern host, for then we can march for Old Anchor and find Lord Melcolm and his family and then wait for Lord Jon to join us.”

“How can you be sure that such a thing will work my lord?” Ser Michael Stone, his bastard brother asks. “After all the last time such a dash happened we were shattered from behind.”

Yorwyck sighs and says. “I am not certain brother. But I will not die wondering. We march in five days’ time, otherwise we will not march at all.” With that he dismisses the war council calling for his brother and son to remain behind. “We cannot allow Ryswell to hold the left side of the Sound. We cannot let them discover the secrets of the First King. Otherwise we shall all be doomed, and it will not matter whether or not a black or red dragon sits the throne. Give the Starks that bloody information and we are all dead.”

“Do you truly think the information there would still be so potent now father?” Andar asks. “After all the dragons died nearly a hundred years ago, and magic has not been as potent since the time of the old king. Surely having that information would do them no good?”

Yorwyck shakes his head then and says. “I do not intend to find out. For a thousand years or more, we have guarded that information dearly. My father was a fool who allowed that information to be buried out in the Sound, when it should never have left Runestone. I mean to break the Ryswell left and take the information back. You know what to do should we succeed Michael.”

His bastard brother nods and says. “Ride for the Gates and do not look back.”

“Good now go and prepare. Five days that is all Shett has, five days or we ride out and we fight and die to protect our secret.” Yorwyck states.

Five days later as they are preparing to march out and face the northmen, Lord Shett arrives with 500 Burned Men and 300 Stone Crows, all hardened warriors of half a dozen battles. Yorwyck rides out and greets them his bronze armour glittering. The chief Burned man Timure rides out and states. “We have come to fight alongside you kneeler. Not to fight for you. We shall fight how we wish and shall take what we wish.”

“That is perfectly reasonable for now. Now come enough talking we have men to fight and kill.” Yorwyck says to the point. And so they ride out, his 500 men and the 800 clansmen, and together they ride creating as much noise as possible to draw out Ryswell and his men, or rather to spook them.

It seems to have worked somewhat for the northmen they come across are scattered and unsure of themselves and Yorwyck and his men take full advantage of that. Swinging his sword Lamentation, Yorwyck swings and hacks and cuts away at the northmen who come into his path, laughing all the while, swinging, hacking and cutting, doing all he can to make sure that the left side of this force he is facing is broken. On no account can they find the stash underneath the Sweet Sound. The battle rages on, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking. More and more men die before Yorwyck’s blade, and he laughs as they do, taking a savage sort of pleasure from the act.

The battle continues raging, the northmen fight back viciously, Yorwyck takes a blow to the chest that nearly winds him, another blow to his arm deadens it, and then he comes across a man with a horse on his armour and they begin a deadly dance. The man swings and swings like he is possessed and Yorwyck manages to block a few of the man’s blows but some of them connect with their targets and leave him either winded or bleeding. He manages to give his own back though, swinging his sword left, right and centre, he gets a few scratches in and then with a parry and a feint he ends up burying Lamentation into the man’s chest before pulling it out and riding on.

He hears a roar and then sees his brother Michael riding as if his life depends on it and he knows the secret is safe for now. Raising his sword high into the air he roars for his men to follow him. The push for Old Anchor begins then, and they charge the northmen and break the left on the fourth charge, and whilst the northmen give chase, the clansmen head them off with rocks and arrows, and another such things. All Yorwyck is focussing on now is getting his men to Old Anchor before the northmen smash them.

It is this sudden drive and determination that makes Yorwyck forget the plan he had crafted with Lord Jon, in his current state of mind all that matters is freeing his sister from the clutches of Stark and allowing his sister freedom once more. He pushes his men hard, not allowing them to stop for anything other than sleep, and even then that proves a bad idea when the northmen assail them from behind in the night. A bloody battle ensues, and when they finally arrive near Old Anchor, they are tired, bloody and near about broken, and still Yorwyck raises his sword and roars for battle and his men follow him though they must be wanting their homes.

Tired and broken though he maybe, the thought of his sister spurs him on and Yorwyck raises his sword again and again, cutting through the lines of northmen that suddenly seem to have appeared before him, he laughs as he does so a maniacal kind of laughter that seems only fitting for how he feels right now. Lamentation is still dripping with the blood of the previous battles and so it gets to the point where he has killed so many men that he has actually forgotten what his sword looked like before this war.  The fighting continues and Yorwyck smashes another man’s chest in with his strength, using that to make up for the lack of precision in his swings, on it goes, swinging, hacking, missing, ducking and dodging. Doing all he can to stay alive, fighting each man who comes his way with every ounce of strength he has left to give.

The battle wears on and Yorwyck can feel his strength fading, he is not as young or as strong as he once was. True he is only thirty three but the march and the war has taken its toll on his body. The blows he takes hit him harder than they would have done had he been twenty, and so the pressure goes on and on and on and on. Eventually the blood of his sword and the blood coming out of his armour blur together, he cannot tell them apart anymore. The fighting continues and Yorwyck drops Lamentation, he sways on his horse, and still he manages to wrestle with one Northman who swings a sword at him, manages to break the steel and though his hands bleed from doing so he punches the man in the face and when the man falls from his horse Yorwyck does so too, and they grapple and fight and exchange blows, Yorwyck kills the man, and then dies when another man mounted on a horse buries his sword into his head.


	24. Confusion

****

**10 th Month of 246 A.C. Heart’s Home**

**Lord Davos Sunderland**

For thousands of years the men of the three sisters had hated and loathed the northmen in particular the Starks. The rape of the three sisters was still etched deeply into the memory of the sisters, and boys and girls growing up in the sisters were often told tales of the scary and savage northmen that would come and get them if they did not behave. It was not that much better under the Arryns, the self-righteous idiots that they were, that frowned upon almost everything the Sisters stood for, piracy, free women and almost always the Lady of the Waves. And so when Daemon Blackfyre had sent a letter to Sisterton and to Davos and asked him to raid the Vale and take what loot he could, he had jumped at the chance, and then had come the part of working with the northmen and Davos had paused for a moment to consider this.

As it had turned out working with the northmen, or rather Edwyle Stark, had been a smart move on Davos’ part. The northmen were more than eager to put aside whatever differences they all had and work together to make the Vale a living hell. Burning and looting aplenty had occurred, and Davos and his men had had a bellyful of battle fighting a host commanded by Lord Hunter at the northern mountains. Then they had marched on Strongsong with Lord Stark and put the entire castle to the sword whilst looting it of its treasury. Davos had then decided that now was a good a time as any to settle an old score he had with Lord Lewyn Corbray, an old man but one who Davos had squired for. He had marched on Heart’s Home and battle had been fought Corbray was wounded and his sons retreated inside, whilst Davos ordered his men to prepare for a siege.

And now here they were six moons later, still laying siege to the damned place. The skirmishes that had happened early on in the siege had now been replaced by boredom and the will for it all to end, either with surrender or Davos calling it a day, and yet his hatred continued running. And so he was surprised when the gates of Heart’s Home opened and Ser Jaime Corbray rode out accompanied by three other men. They flew a peace banner and so Davos nodded for his men to allow them to see him. “Ser Jaime,” Davos began. “I had not thought to see you here. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ser Jaime Corbray was a tall man with dark brown hair and sharp eyes. He spoke softly. “I have come to bring an end to this siege once and for all. Are you willing to discuss terms?”

“The great Ser Jaime Corbray coming out to discuss terms with lowly old me? My how things have changed. What has happened Jaime, finally pulled your head out of your arse and realised your father doesn’t shit daisies?” Davos taunted.

Corbray’s grip on the pommel of his sword tightened and his voice was tight when he replied. “No I have come because my lord father bid me to. This siege has gone on for long enough Davos. Call an end to it and we may discuss terms like real men.”

“If it is your father who has sent you, then I have no desire to further engage in this conversation. I would rather kill the man myself than allow him to dictate terms to me once more.” Davos says somewhat heatedly.

Corbray smirks at this and says. “I had no idea that you still harboured a grudge against my father, Sunderland. Considering it has been nearly thirty years since last you were here and a squire under his roof. Your own sons are now men grown with children, surely that has been enough time to heal the aches and pains he caused you?”

“This is not about that. I am doing a duty to my king. The rightful and true king. Tell your father he can come here and surrender his wealth to me in person. Or I shall storm the gates and kill you all.” Davos fumes.

Corbray laughs then. “Oh Davos you never change. You fool, I am here to offer you an opportunity.”

At this Davos’ eyes narrow and he asks. “What opportunity? What are you saying Corbray?”

“I am saying Davos, that if you will stop wanting to be the warrior, you might just get the chance to kill my father and I can still get the peace I want.” Corbray says.

“And how is that? Kinslaying is against the laws of gods and men.” Davos says.

“I would not be the one to kill my father. You would be. He will come out and speak with you, but not under a peace banner. That is your chance.” Jaime says.

“That is not honourable father.” Davos’ son Steffon says. Newly knighted and the new heir to the Sisters.

“This is war. Sometimes honour has no place and sometimes there is honour in killing a corrupt old man who has outstayed his welcome.” Ser Jaime says.

“Very well bring your father out here. No peace banner, no fanfare. And I shall kill him and then we shall leave you be.” Davos responds.

“I knew you would see sense.” Ser Jaime says smiling before he rides off, and a few minutes later he returns with an old and feeble, but still very much aware Lord Lewyn Corbray. “Father,” Ser Jaime says. “You remember Lord Davos do you not?”

Lord Lewyn Corbray still managed to drum up a swell of emotions in Davos, fear, anger, and confusion. “Yes, have you come for your morning ritual boy?”

“I am not a boy and I have come to kill you.” Davos snarled.

“You come to kill me?” Lord Lewyn said contemptuously. “Pah, you fight like a girl, always….” The man did not get to finish his sentence, for Davos had buried his sword deep into the man’s gut.

Looking at Ser Jaime Davos pulls his sword out and asks. “Are you satisfied now?”

“Oh quite. Now I shall have the gold that you always wanted when you were here brought out and then you and your men may remain on our lands for some more time and then I expect you gone.” Jaime Corbray says.

Much later once Corbray has given him the gold and left, Davos finds himself in his tent, sharing a drink with his son and his bastard uncle Ser Lonnel Stone as well as Lord Emmon Goodthorpe. “I never knew you had fostered with the Corbrays father. What was it like?” his son asked.

Davos grimaces and says. “It was not pleasant. My father was a grasping man, but also weak willed. He sent me to foster at Heart’s Home in order to pay off a debt he had incurred whilst gambling. Lord Lewyn was a harsh man, and there were things that he did that no man should ever do to another person let alone a boy. Jaime Corbray is an idiot who knows how to swing a sword. As to the man’s other brothers I know what they are like. All I know is the sooner we leave for Old Anchor the better things will be.”

Whilst his son goes to ask another question his uncle Ser Lonnel speaks. “On that matter, there is some interesting news that has come forth. It would appear Stark has retreated inside the castle, for Lord Yorwyck Royce led a charge of 500 of his men and some of the clansmen onto Old Anchor. There was a fierce battle, Royce is dead but his son led a charge that pushed Stark and his northmen inside. We might not be able to provide much assistance now.”

Davos curses. “I knew Stark was too green to truly be able to pull it all off. Royce must have sensed something was amiss. Leaving the Melcolm family alive was a huge error.”

“Aye, but now at least we have some room for bargaining.” Lord Goodthorpe says.

“What do you mean?” Davos asks.

“Well now that he is in trouble, Stark will no doubt look to us for help. Lord Borrell and his men are already beaten and broken, but we remain strong and Coldwater’s men are with us not Stark. But of course what have we truly gained from fighting alongside the Starks? Other than more dead bodies and consummate headaches.” Goodthorpe says.

“We have gotten gold and plunder. More so than we have gotten since the conquest.” Davos’ son states.

“Aye but not near enough compared to what we got before the conquest, when the Sunderlands were pirate kings.” Goodthorpe countered.

“What you are suggesting is treason Goodthorpe. I suggest you remember that. And besides we do not have seven warring kingdoms to get away with such a thing. We are faced with a largely united front, that could crush us if it so chose. Where is the benefit in that?” Ser Lonnel asks.

“But think about it, the Vale is a sinking ship. If we can take castes away so easily, what is there left for us? We might as well break from the Vale and become our own sovereign nation. Or if not that ask the king to gives us greater rights and more freedom.” Lord Goodthorpe continues to argue.

“What would that gain us but blood and fire? You know what they say about us on the sisters? That we have dragged them through war and death only for our own greed. The grip on the sisters is slipping father, do not consider this lunacy.” Davos son says.

“Then think of what they will say when we come to them with the promise of a lifetime. The ability to raid and plunder as we want. The freedom to worship as we see fit. That is what we can get if we break from the Vale, and even more so if we break from the Iron Throne.” Lord Goodthorpe argues.

“So how do you suggest we go about this plan then my lord? We are currently miles from the sea and our ships. We have a force that means we cannot easily travel back by sea even if we wanted to. And there is of course the fact that the northmen remain in the Vale.” Davos says.

“We have enough supplies and plunder from previous battles to make do with for now my lord. I say we ride for our ships now, and those that cannot make it in time we leave behind. We do this now, and we shall forever be in a strong position. The Arryns are done my lord, it is time we accepted that and moved on.” Goodthorpe argues.

Davos ponders this all for a very long time, thinking of all that has been said and not said, and his own feelings and anger at being subsumed by the Vale for so long. Eventually he takes a sip of water and then says. “Very well then. Lord Goodthorpe, since you came up with the idea, I am placing you in charge of instigating it. Rally the men and bring them towards the southern point of camp. We shall ride for the sea once we have had lunch. Now go.”

Lord Goodthorpe nods and departs, and Davos’ son speaks then. “You cannot be serious father! This is tantamount to suicide. Such a thing will bring nothing but pain and death to us and our people.”

Davos says nothing and merely takes sips of water from his cup, as the minutes tick by he waits to hear from Lord Goodthorpe’s squire but as time continues to pass and there is no word he grows worried. “Go and find out what has become of Goodthorpe Nuncle.” Davos tells Ser Lonnel.

The man nods and departs, only to return a few moments later panting. “Banners have been sighted. Arryn banners. They have come.”


	25. Desecration

**Fourth Month of 247 A.C. Gates of the Moon**

**Lady Jocelyn Royce**

The vale was quite different to the north, whilst the north was cold and harsh, its people were unfailingly honest and loyal to a fault, the Valemen, and Jocelyn had discovered whilst being nice, were two faced and would often play games to reap greater benefit for themselves. It had been her grandmother Lorra who had arranged the match between herself and her current husband Benedict. Lady Lorra was cunning and smart and knew how to get things done, an alliance between Runestone and Winterfell would come good she had told Jocelyn’s brother Edwyle, and their uncle Artos, in the troubles that would come. Her husband came from the cadet branch of House Royce, and was a good man, strong and honest, and her daughters Lorra, Melantha and Serena were the jewels of her eyes but still there was something off about the Valemen that she could not quite place. It showed during her and her family’s captivity here in the Gates of the Moon, not allowed out and allowed nothing more than what the Eyrie said they could have.

But it would not do to dwell on the injustice that they were faced with after all her own brother had declared war on the Vale and was currently running afoul of the Arryns. Jocelyn looked at her daughters, all of whom were playing and nattering away and turned to her husband and said. “We shall need to get knew clothes for the girls soon. Lorra and Melantha are quickly out growing the clothes we had bought them before the war began. Can we not at least send away for more orders?”

Benedict looked stressed as he had done since the beginning of the war. He was silent for a long moment before he said. “I know not Jocelyn. Lord Arryn has sent no word on what we can do about clothes. He has only said we cannot leave the Gates of the Moon. I can ask around and see if any of the guardsmen have spare clothes from their daughters.”

Jocelyn nods. “That would be brilliant Ben. There is more that I mean to talk to you about.  I have a feeling some of our servants are not what they appear to be. I do believe that they might be working for someone else. Perhaps Lord Arryn or Maegor Targaryen.”

Her husband looks at her a moment and then asks. “What do you mean? These are all people I have known since I was young. I appointed them myself on my cousin Yorwyck’s recommendation. They would not betray us Jocelyn.”

“But that is where you are wrong Ben,” Jocelyn countered. “They know that you trust them and as such they feel free to do things that they might otherwise not do. For they know you will be lapse in checking whether they are continuing on in their duties. I overheard two of the maids the other day speaking about the money they were making off of reporting our goings on to some woman.”

At this her husband’s eyes narrowed and he asked. “Did you per chance over hear the name of the woman they were reporting to?”

Jocelyn nods. “Some woman called simply the black swan. I have never heard that name before. But judging by the look on your face you have. Who is she Ben?”

Her husband looks as if he has seen a ghost. He stands up walks to the doors and closes the doors firmly and then says in a hushed whisper. “The Black Swan is an evil, evil woman. A lady who used to walk around the Vale asking for payment and tribute so that the children of the smallfolk would be left alone. Those who could not or did not pay tribute had to watch as their children and their homes were destroyed. It got so bad that eventually the lords of the Vale bandied together and fought a battle with the black swan, and killed her and drove her followers to the sea.”

“Well they did not do a good job then as she is clearly still alive.” Jocelyn jokes, her face becomes serious though when she looks at her husband.

“This happened some 1,000 years ago when the Arryns were kings. There are records that say that the woman was a Royce and some say she was an Arryn who had gone mad. Still if this woman truly is calling herself the Black Swann then we must be very careful now. Very, very careful.” Ben said.

“What? Why?” Jocelyn asks. “Surely she wouldn’t dare do something now?”

Benedict sighs and says. “No one knows who the Black Swan truly was, but my family has always believed that she was a Royce, there are certain things about our family that are lost to pages of time. And the secret of how we became the Bronze Kings is one of them, but occasionally there are signs that the old family are coming back. The Black Swan matched that feeling. We must be very careful now.”

“But you have not explained why we need to be so very careful of this woman. What is so bad about her?” Jocelyn asks.

Her husband is very silent for a long time and then he says. “The Black Swan if she was a Royce, was very methodical, and very, very good at what she did. It took the Lords of the Vale ten years to find her and her lair, and when they finally found her lair, it was covered in bronze, so much bronze that one lord joked she should be named the bronze swan. But in that lair they found something that scared them all, a letter, written to them all about the darkness that comes from dragons and tears. Tears of Lys, there is something dark and wrong about all of this Jocelyn. And we must protect our daughters from the black swan otherwise we shall never see them again.”

Jocelyn is about to reply when there is a knock on the door, and when her husband calls for whoever it is to enter, she breathes a sigh of relief to see Maester Dermond walk in. “There have been three new letters my lord, my lady. I thought it best to bring them here, and away from the servants.”

Her husband nods and in light of the recent information, Jocelyn can’t help but agree with the maester. “What news is there from outside then maester?”

Maester Dermond is silent a moment and then he says. “Word from the Eyrie, it would appear that Lord Arryn finally marched out and met Lord Davos Sunderland and his men in battle. Sunderland and his host were slaughtered against the trees of the Elder Forest. Arryn is now planning an attack on Old Anchor where the northmen are trapped under siege. He writes wanting to know how you think your brother will think in this situation my lady.”

Jocelyn feels stunned by this and feels her anger begin to rise. “Is that why he has allowed me to live for so long? IN case such a scenario arose and he needed to use me against my brother? A brother who does not care a whit for me that he continues to wage war. How am I to know what he will do? He is not the brother I once knew.”

Benedict then ever the wise soul says. “Enough about that. We know now that Edwyle Stark will do whatever he thinks best. Tell Jon Arryn that and let him make of it what he will. Now what are the other two letters about?”

Maester Dermond nods and then says. “Well this second letter has come from the man calling himself king. Daemon Blackfyre. He writes that if you wish for the ending of your confinement, there is only one thing that you need to do. And that is allow his army to pass through the Bloody Gate and the Gates of the Moon. And once he has dealt with the Arryns and any other lords who insist on fighting for Maegor Targaryen, he shall name you Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East.”

Silence and then Jocelyn asks. “Daemon Blackfyre, is clearly aloof and distant from reality. How does he expect you to convince Jasper Waynwood a man so sworn to duty to allow his army to pass through? That is something of a fool’s errand and surely a mission meant to weaken you in the eyes of the Vale.”

Her husband is silent for a long, long time after that and then he eventually replies saying. “I will not respond to that letter for now. Things are still too heated in the Vale for me to allow such a thing to come to pass. I must see how the wind blows once this war is done. Now what is the third letter about?”

 Maester Dermond smiles at that and says. “It is from Lord Andar Royce. Your cousin writes to say that it seems there have been some very interesting developments as of late in the siege of Old Anchor. Things that might be of interest to you and your lady wife.”

“And what are these developments? Does Lord Andar have to say about this?” Benedict asks.

Maester Dermond smiles and says. “You should read the letter for yourself my lord.” And so he hands the letter over and her husband reads it and then hands it over to Jocelyn to read.

Jocelyn gasps when she sees the words on the page:

_My dearest Jocelyn,_

_You might be surprised to be reading this letter that is if Andar Royce is as honourable a man as I think he is._

_We have been warring in the Vale for two years now, and not once in that time have I tried to come and rescue you, and for that I feel most guilty. My sister, the girl I swore to always protect when we were younger. Well I can promise you this, soon I shall be able to free you and your daughters, and your husband as well if you wish. Soon enough Old Anchor will be no more and the north shall come to your aid._

_Until then, know that I love you and I will see you very shortly._

_Yours_

Her husband embraces her and only then does she realise that she is crying. “We must wait it out my lady.” Benedict whispers into her hair. “We cannot act now, for help is on its way.”

Jocelyn nods and then whispers. “But what happens if Andar does not follow with his end of the bargain, and how do we know that that is what is truly planned? Something else might have been agreed.”

Benedict nods and says. “We wait. If Andar is the man I think he is, he will do as we think he will. And soon enough we shall be free, but until then we must wait and ensure that our girls are safe.” At that her husband lifts his head from her hair and says. “Maester Dermond what do you know about the Black Swan of the Vale?”

Maester Dermond looks at them for a moment and then says. “I only know what records exist in the citadel. And even then, the accounts are vague and there are not any solutions provided for why she did what she did. Why do you ask my lord?”

Her husband is silent for a long time before he says. “Because we believe there might be another one lurking around the Vale now.”

Maester Dermond stops in his tracks then and looks at them both and asks. “Are you sure about this my lord? My lady? After all the Black Swan if she did exist, lived over 1,000 years ago. And all other things relating to her were kept in the Eyrie. SO why would she come back now?”

 


	26. A Wolf Far From Home

**7 th Month of 247 A.C. Old Anchor**

**Lord Edwyle Stark**

The war in the Vale had waged for two years now, countless battles had been fought, won and lost. Castles had fallen and been reclaimed, and through all of that Edwyle had watched the men he called friends live and die by the sword, laughing as they went to their deaths. Hells even his own uncle Errold had died, laughing as they had stormed Old Anchor. Old Anchor the seat of House Melcolm, and the castle they were currently stuck in, and had been for nearly a year since the battle with the forces of Runestone. Lord Andar Royce sat outside the walls of the castle with some 3,000 men more men than Edwyle had now, he was sure Lords Bolton and Karstark had retreated to the north somehow once it became clear that they would not gain more aid from the Iron Throne. Gods alone knew what the King was doing, but something else seemed to have taken his attention. Davos Sunderland and his men were dead, their corpses still fresh in the Elder Wood, Lord Borrell long since dead and no one knew what had become of Lord Goodthorpe, perhaps he too was dead. All Edwyle knew was that this war was over now, Jon Arryn was marching towards Old Anchor with a sizeable host and that was what worried Edwyle.

Of course Royce had seemingly remembered that they were kin, and as such had allowed Edwyle to give him a letter to send to his sister Jocelyn at the Gates of the Moon. After that letter a deal was struck, and now Edwyle was waiting to meet with Royce and his sworn men to discuss whether or not the deal would still go through. The doors to the solar opened and Lord Andar Royce strode in. “Jon Arryn has been delayed coming here, by the scores of clansmen I sent his way. Be thankful that I still follow the old gods my lord otherwise your head would be decorating a spike right now.”

Edwyle nodded his thanks and then asked. “And the second part of the plan? That is in action now?”

“Yes. My cousin knew to follow the code I sent him. Soon enough your sister and her family will be safely away from the Gates of the Moon and on a ship bound for the north. As to Jasper Waynwood well that is where your men come into play. Can Lord Dorren Umber be trusted to do as asked?” Royce questioned.

Edwyle said a quick prayer to the old gods for his sister’s safety and then said. “Yes I believe so my lord. Dorren might be a giant, but he can be a quiet one when he wants to be. He is also very, very cunning. You have no need to fear on that count. Now what about the final part of the plan, when shall that be coming into play?”

“My, my lord you surely are in a rush to head off out of here. Have you had your fill of glory then? Realised that war is not a game?” Lord Andar taunted.

Edwyle ignored the taunt and merely said. “I have done what I set out to do, and now wish for nothing more than to head home. So tell me will I be able to take my men back with me once this plan is done?”

Thankfully Royce nods and says. “When my squire returns, me and my men and the host surrounding these walls shall ride out and aid Lord Arryn in defeating the clansmen. You will have about a day’s head start before the pursuit begins. In that time I insist that you take the southern road to Gulltown, Jasper Grafton bears no love for the Arryns and will let you and your men go without question.”

“And what of the ships we had docked in the fingers, what about them?” Edwyle asks.

“Leave them to burn. My cousin Beron shall see them burnt. Now if you have no further questions, I must go and see to my men. I suggest you speak with your bannermen now my lord.” With that Andar Royce takes his leave.

Once the man is gone, Edwyle knocks on the door connecting the solar to the other study and his lords’ bannermen: Ryswell, Dustin, Manderly, Glover, Umber and their sworn men enter as well as his uncles Rodrik and Brandon. “You heard what was said. Dorren I want you to take the Bloody Gate, beat it raw, and then ride for Riverrun. Once you are out of the Vale, Arryn has no claim over your head.” Dorren nods and then Edwyle turns to his uncle Rodrik and asks. “Do you believe Royce spoke truly? Will he uphold his end of the deal?”

His uncle is silent for a moment and then says. “I believe so, at least about Jocelyn and her children leaving the gates of the moon. As for all else that he said, who knows. He is a southerner, and they are notoriously untrustworthy. We shall have to proceed with caution when we do finally leave. And there is something he is not telling us, I could see in his eyes. Something dangerous is out there.”

“What could be more dangerous than a bunch of southerners?” Lord Glover asks.

“I know not, but clearly there is something out there in the Vale that is causing all of these plans to be put into motion. But regardless we must tread very carefully now.” Rodrik says.

Edwyle nods. “Very well, you all know what your roles are in this. I want this done to perfection, no false starts or fake ends. We escape and go through with it to the end.”

His bannermen voice their understanding and soon enough the meeting comes to an end. Edwyle is the last to leave the room and once he is armoured and ready, his uncle Rodrik comes and says. “The Royce host has left, they have only left behind some 200 men as they said they would.”

Edwyle nods and then says. “Tell Dorren that now is his time to shine.” His uncle nods, and as Edwyle walks through the castle he can hear the gates being lifted and the sounds of fighting drift through to him. He walks to the battlements to see the Giant of House Umber waving proudly in the air as Dorren Umber and his men smash the 200 Royce men to pieces. “Tell Lords Glover and Manderly to prepare the torches.” Edwyle tells one of his men.

Once the man has left, Edwyle heads down towards the grounds, where his men are all ready and saddled, once he is mounted he gives the order and he and his men ride out of Old Anchor, and towards the southern road. When they are a safe distance away, Edwyle roars. “Let the flame loose.” And once he hears Lords Glover and Manderly barking the commands and hears a whoosh of flame, he looks round to see Old Anchor burning. Nothing will be left of House Melcolm’s seat once the flames are done, just as there is nothing left of House Melcolm.

They ride as quickly as their horses can go on the southern road, not daring to stop for a rest or for food. This goes on for at least three days in which time, Edwyle swears the road to Gulltown still seems to go on and on with no end in sight. Eventually he calls a halt to the march and sends his two most trusted scouts out to gather information. Whilst they are out, Edwyle and the rest of the men tend to their horses and to themselves, and eventually Jason Ironsmith, and Willam Woolfield return with some interesting tidings. “Jon Arryn has put a bounty on your head my lord. He claims to be doing so in the name of the Targaryen boy he claims to be king. Some 600 gold dragons to the man who brings him to the Eyrie alive.” Ironsmith reports.

“Well at least the man seems to value my life highly.” Edwyle says to the amusement of his lords. “Now what else did you learn?”

Ironsmith is silent a moment and then he says. “Lord Umber managed to break through the Bloody Gate, he and his men destroyed the gate and those who guard it. But Lord Dorren died of his wounds whilst staying at the Crossroads Inn. His son Jonnel now leads the Umber men back to the neck.”

All the men were silent then, for Dorren Umber was a good man, a true Northman. “That is not all we learnt my lord.” Woolfield said. “We also learnt that some woman has been causing trouble for the nobles in the Vale. They call her the Black Swan.”

At this Edwyle’s interest was piqued, he had heard his grandmother speak of her on cold winter nights, and his uncles Rodrik and Errold also looked interested. “What do they say of this black swan?”

“They say she runs with devils and clansmen, that she mates with animals and that she is a sign from the seven for the Arryns supporting the Targaryens. Other than that they say nothing else.” Woolfield said.

“Very well then. It makes no matter. Now was there any word on Jocelyn or her husband or daughters?” Edwyle asked.

Ironsmith is the one to speak to that. “There was actually my lord. The people of Shett’s Town said that Lady Jocelyn and her children had escaped the Gates of the Moon and were heading towards the Riverlands. Whilst others say they escaped and were heading north. But all tales agree that she has escaped.”

Edwyle nodded that was good news. “And what of her husband?”

“Ser Benedict died my lord. How he died none know, but that he is dead all agree.” Ironsmith replies.

At that Edwyle is torn, he does not want to leave his sister alone with her daughters roaming the Riverlands whilst war wages, nor does he wish to abandon his men before they get to Gulltown and to home. As if sensing his burning desire to do both, his uncle Errold says. “It is better for you to come back north Ed. You will do no good gallivanting off to find Jocelyn now. She will come home, and now it is time for us to go home.”

Edwyle is about to respond when an arrow comes flying past and hits the tree next to him. Turning round he sees a company of men wearing masks, and then a voice, a woman’s voice. “He shall be going nowhere just now. Not until he is done with me.”

“Who are you, and what do you want with the Lord of Winterfell?” his uncle Rodrik asks, stepping forward then his sword drawn.

The men move aside and the woman steps forward wearing a swan mask. “Do you not remember me Rodrik? I confess it has been a while since last we met. But not so long for you to forget me.” With that she removed her mask, and long brown hair fell down and her eyes, gods her eyes were the same as his.

“Alysanne?” he heard his uncles Rodrik and Errold say softly.

“Aye, indeed. I have come back and now I desire to speak with you all. You wish to leave for the north, but not before I get my due.” The black swan replied.

Both his uncles were speechless as were many of his men, and so he merely asked. “And what due is this? That you would seek to stop the Lord of Winterfell and his men from returning home?”

“I have come to claim what I should have gotten long ago, when your father was still alive. Or perhaps even when my own father was still alive. Sold off like chattel as I was. This is my due, and I shall have it.” The woman says.

Edwyle feels his anger begin to growing unsheathing Ice he asks. “And what due is this, I ask again.”

The woman looks at him and smiles. “Why, your blood nephew.”


	27. Telegraph Road

**Second Month of 248 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Lyonel Baratheon**

In the three years since he had been named hand of the king much had happened. The issue of whom would be given Willow’s Wood was settled in a tourney held at Harrenhal, where lords from the riverlands and elsewhere came to compete, second and third sons even uncles of these men competed. The tourney lasted for some four days, before an eventual victor in Ser Desmond Rivers the bastard of Stone Hedge won the jousting and the melee that followed. Taking the name Widow, Ser Desmond was formally named Lord of Willow’s Wood by the king. That had taken place some three months ago, when the king had returned from his progresses, and the war between the north and the Vale had ended. That war, a good idea at the time of its conception had proven to be a very barren idea. The northmen had taken the early advantage, but then the Valemen had rallied and fought back. Edwyle Stark had been killed by an outlaw named The Black Swan whom Lord Reynard had said worked for the Vale, and the Vale alone. The woman was still at large though, and the King had gone north to speak with the remaining Starks as well as to ensure that Jocelyn Royce and her family were safe and secure in the North.

Of course with the king away, that had meant Lyonel was now in charge of running the court and whilst he found some aspects of it interesting he could not help but find other parts boring. Thankfully, there was a council meeting with which to take his mind of the more mundane aspects of court life. “It has been some time since we last met my lords,” Lyonel began. “And with the king away, I do believe it is paramount we start with the whisperings of the realm and the court so that we can be assured that the king is safe. So Lord Reynard what have you heard?”

The master of whispers was silent for a moment and then said. “Well my lord hand, I can tell you one, thing the Vale still fumes at the way in which Jocelyn Royce and her family escaped. Lord Andar Royce himself is under suspicion from most of the Vale Lords but they dare not attack him openly, not when the man’s sister is wed to Lord Arryn. There is tension in the Vale that is for certain.”

Lyonel nods and then asks. “Is there perhaps a chance that we might get to use this tension to our advantage in the near future? For I know how eager the king is to be rid of the threat posed by Jon Arryn and Maegor Targaryen.”

“Perhaps if the right incentive can be offered to some of the lords. Royce himself did his part quite well by allowing Stark and the man’s sister to escape. It is a shame that Stark died though, we could have used that alliance right there to bring down Jon Arryn. Until there is such a vicious current of resentment though I do think we shall have to wait and bide our time.” The master of whispers responds.

“Hmmm,” Lyonel begins. “And what of Dorne? What are those vipers doing?”

Lord Reynard smiles at that. “They do what they do best my lord. They are planning and plotting their revenge on the king. Qoren Martell might be saying otherwise in his missives but that is what they are doing. For once Martell and Yronwood are Seeing Eye to eye on the matter, they want a free and independent Dorne, and I believe they see the only way to do that is through war.”

At this Lord Bar Emmon speaks. “But why would they risk the peace we have now for some farfetched dream that would only see them burn in the long term? Surely Qoren Martell is not as short sighted as that?”

“You would be surprised just how short sighted the vipers can be when it comes to either saving their red dragons or becoming independent. Qoren Martell no doubt thinks unless Maegor Targaryen does something now, he will break away.” Lyonel grumbles.

Lord Reynard laughs at that and says. “Ah my lord hand, if only you knew. Qoren Martell nurses old grievances like a plague. There is no doubt in my mind that he remembers the tales his grandmother told him about Daemon Blackfyre and the first Blackfyre war and he looks at our king and he sees something that would stop his family from living. Perhaps he means to do damage to the king’s claims of strength. After all Aegon the Dragon could not hold Dorne with his dragons.”

At this Lyonel straightens and asks. “You think he means to rebel and send men after the royal family whilst the king is away?”

Reynard nods and says. “Oh I believe he means to do more than that. No one knows what was in Prince Nymor’s letter to Aegon the Dragon, but there are some who rightly believe there were threats made to the king’s heir. Qoren Martell is not Nymor, but he would most definitely resort to such a thing if he felt the need to. And with Lord Luthor Tyrell not being the most capable of war leaders, he might just feel he has the chance to do so.”

Lyonel sighs then and looking at Ser Borros Storm the captain of the Gold Cloaks he says. “I want the guard around the royal family doubled. And I want all those of the city watch who hail from the marches and Dorne to be questioned. I want nothing happening that has not been expected. Is that clear?” Storm nods and then he turns to Reyne and asks. “And what of the Greyjoys what to do they plot?”

“War. Quellon Greyjoy sits the Seastone chair and dreams of wearing a crown. The wars and the fall of the Targaryens have made him question whether staying true to the Iron Throne is truly worth it for him and his people. The priests of the Drowned God are also whipping the Ironborn into a frenzy as well, calling for war and a return to the old way. Soon enough we could be seeing war on our coastlines.” Reyne responds

Lyonel sighs and asks. “Is any of this definitive, or mere conjecture my lord? I will not act without definitive proof.”

Lord Reynard nods and says. “I thought you might have said something like that my lord hand. And I know how little the king wishes to war on his own people. But this letter from Lord Greyjoy’s own brother might be of some note to you.”

Lyonel looks at the letter before him and reads it and then reads it again and then curses out loud. “Seven Hells. They are arming their fleet to the teeth and they do not think to consider what this could mean? I doubt that they are going for the Stepstones or even the Summer Isles with this number of ships and weapons. No, they are definitely plotting war. Lord Reynard I want your men in the Iron Islands to sow seeds of dissent against the Greyjoys. I want the Ironborn at war with one another.”

At this Lord Redwyne says. “Would that work though? After all Ironborn do not fight Ironborn.”

Lord Reynard smiles then and says. “With what I have in mind, that rule will be broken for all time. It shall be done my lord.”

“Very well. Now what other news of import is there” Lyonel asks, trying to calm the rush inside of him.

“There is war waging between Braavos and Qohor. It would appear that this war started over disagreements of trade. And as such they are looking for allies in the fighting that is to come.” Grand Maester Kaeth says.

“How badly will this affect our own trade?” Lyonel asks looking to Lord Bar Emmon.

Lord Bar Emmon looks down at his notes and says. “Well as of now, nothing. We are getting good incomes from Tyrosh, Myr, Lorath and the other free cities. We have no loan outstanding with the Iron Bank and as such have nothing to do with Qohor. Should this war last more than a few moons however, that is when we should begin getting concerned. For as you all know, wars cost money, then trade is always affected by growing prices.”

“So are you suggesting we show our hand now and side with one of the two factions?” Lyonel asks intrigued.

Bar Emmon shakes his head. “I am saying that we should reduce our trade with Braavos now, begin slowly and wait and see how the war pans out. Should the war last more than a couple of months I would suggest siding with Braavos, for we have nothing to gain from a Qohor victory.”

Lyonel nods. “See to it then. Now what about the Stepstones? Lord Redwyne, what is the word from there?”

“Bad my lord. Four pirate kings now control the area, and are extolling high rates from ships trying to pass by. One captain of the royal fleet even mentioned that they tried taxing him and threatening his family when he refused to pay.” Redwyne responds.

“THEY DID WHAT?” Lyonel booms.

“They threatened him with the deaths of his wife and child, if he did not pay the toll. When he continued refusing, the man said he would write to his friends in King’s Landing to see the job done. How the man escaped I know not, but he did and he has since come and told me.” Redwyne says.

“These pirates have grown far too bold. A lack of a fierce presence in the Stepstones has made them get ideas above their station. I shall write to the King and see what he says. But I am determined to see them put to rights.” Lyonel fumed.

Lord Redwyne nods and Lord Bar Emmon as master of coin speaks up then. “Just bear in mind the cost of such a venture my lord hand. These are pirates who were likely born and raised in the Stepstones. No Westerosi has ever truly been there since Daemon Targaryen had his kingdom there.”

“I know all of that. I merely think that they are pressing themselves to far this time. But that is a matter for another time. Now what more news is there?” Lyonel says.

The ever silent Jason Peake otherwise known as Ironrod, for his firm believe in the law spoke then. “Reports are coming in from the Riverlands about three men dressed in masks who are causing havoc amongst the small folk. Raping, looting and pillaging as they please. The strange thing is they seem to be getting quite a following, especially amongst nobles whose fathers fought for the Targaryens. It seems these three men have called themselves the rat, the hawk and the pig, after the infamous trio who raped and killed Aelora Targaryen.”

“Have they stated anything as to why they are doing what they are doing?” Lyonel asks, if he recalled correctly the three men who had played a part in Aelora’s death had never been found.

“No my lord. The only thing anyone knows about them is their masks, and the fact that many lesser nobles are rallying to their cause. Soon enough they too will become a threat that the throne may have to face.” Jason Peake says.

Lyonel sighs then and says. “Very well. Write to Lords Mooton and Tully and tell them to lead the search for these three men. They are to question them using any means necessary and then send word of what they have found. Once that is done, they can kill them.”

“And what of the Black Swan my lord? What do you wish done with her?” Lord Reynard asked.

“Nothing. She shall come of her own accord when the time is right. Until then we have other things to sort out.” Lyonel says concluding the council meeting.


	28. Falcon

**1st month of 249 A.C. The Eyrie**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

The Vale was usually a peaceful land and the heart of chivalry, except when roused. For then the savageness of the first men and the Andals of old would be unleashed and woe to those who were fool enough to risk the wrath of the Valemen. That it had been the sistermen who had started the raiding and causing trouble had not surprised Jon in the least, he knew his history well enough, the sistermen were fickle bitches and not ones to truly give their allegiance over to anyone but themselves. As for the attacks of the northmen, that itself had surprised him somewhat, the northmen rarely did anything south of the neck anymore, and so he had had to attribute it to the eagerness of their young lord Edwyle Stark now dead. Though the sistermen and the northmen had gained some early advantages, Jon had played it cautious and allowed them to gain the advantage before relying on the cunning of Lord Andar Royce and the Black Swan to truly out do them all. Now the sistermen were in anarchy that Jon was content to allow, and the northmen were beaten and broken, brewing in the north with a child lord of Winterfell.

Of course the Blackfyre usurper was travelling round the kingdoms and ensuring that peace remained in ‘his’ kingdom. The true king however, Prince Maegor Targaryen had turned seventeen earlier this month and was a man wed to Jon’s own sister Alys with two children, a boy named Jaehaerys and a girl named Jaehaera. As such Jon was holding a meeting of his most trusted bannermen to discuss the state of Westeros and the plans for a new rebellion. “Daemon Blackfyre sits uneasily on his throne. We all know this, the failed attack by the sistermen and the north has left him with fewer allies there, and the anarchy in the sisters is also going begin causing him trouble soon enough. As for Dorne, well Qoren Martell continues to bring about trouble in the form of raiders and bandits. Soon enough the country will be ripe for. The question is how ready we are?”

Lord Andar Royce his most trusted lord spoke then. “I believe we are very ready for war. After all we did not expend that much man power fighting the northmen, we still have some 30,000 men ready to call upon should the need arise. But the question is this, how willing are we all to march to war and where would we stake our claim?”

Jon thought about this for a moment before looking at a map of Westeros that was before them on the table. “We could always do the traditional thing. Muster our men at the Eyrie and then march from the bloody gate and strike out at Darry first. The Darrys are still Targaryen loyalists and will like join us as will the Mootons and other lesser houses. From there we could march out and take the Brackens and the Blackwoods by surprise.”

Prince Maegor spoke then. “Aye that is one way we could do it. But that is the way they will expect us to come. I suggest perhaps splitting our host in two, send one to march down the bloody gate, and another sail from Gulltown to land at the Crownlands. Give the Blackfyres confusion as to where to send the bulk of their host.”

“A smart plan and one that I doubt Daemon Blackfyre himself would think of. Considering the men who he keeps around him they are all likely thinking of the straight and narrow. Or likely more willing to think of the straight and narrow then if they were still sellswords.” Lord Hunter said.

Jon considered this for a moment and then said. “Aye it is a smart plan, but I would not be so quick as to write off the Blackfyres and their men. They grew up with swords in their hands, I highly doubt that they would not think of all the possible ways in which we might launch an invasion. And so to further cloud their judgement we need allies.”

At this Ser Michael Templeton the knight of ninestars speaks. “Well we know in the riverlands that Mooton, Darry, Charlton and other lesser houses will support us. That will give us enough support to add to our army when the march for the riverlands comes. As to the rest of the kingdoms. Well Jason Lannister continues to voice open protest against the Blackfyres and it seems more men are drawn to him then to his brother. Attempts by the Blackfyres to have him quieted have failed, and so have drawn him more support. There could be a potential ally. Dorne itself will always support the Targaryens, after all Prince Maegor descends from Mariah Martell and Daenerys Targaryen remains alive and well.”

“Indeed, though there are whispers on the grapevine that Daemon Blackfyre wishes to seek out Daenerys Targaryen.” Lord Gerold Grafton, a cousin said.

“I was not aware of this. How recent is this gossip?” Jon asked.

His cousin looked at him a long moment and then said. “I believe it is fairly recent. A trader from Dorne who was docked in Gulltown was speaking of it to one of my boys before he left. It seems Blackfyre wishes to simply speak to the old woman about his grandfather and that period of time. To get an account of those who were truly there.”

“That is what he says. But we all know not to trust the word of a Blackfyre. After all was it not the man’s own grandfather who promised King Daeron he would never rebel and then he did just that?” Prince Maegor asked. “More than likely the man wishes to use her as a tool to get Dorne’s fealty. We cannot allow her to leave Sunspear.”

“How do you suggest we best protect her then my prince?” Lord Hunter asked. “For sending someone to Sunspear will only draw attention to what you want us to do.”

Prince Maegor seemed stuck on this point and so Jon said. “We shall write to Prince Qoren and ask him to ensure his grandmother is protected. We cannot afford for Princess Daenerys to fall into enemy hands, Prince Maegor is right. And we still have friends at court who can seek to undermine the King’s position with those nobles of the crownlands.”

His goodbrother looked at him then. “We do?”

“Aye we do. Lords Stokeworth and Rosby are firmly in your camp Your Grace. And Lord Rykker the man who controls the keys to Duskendale is also on your side, he despises the Bittersteels and has no reason to love Blackfyre either. These are strong allies to have.” Jon said.

The prince seemed encouraged by this and asked. “If we were to reach out to them now, would they begin making preparations for the war to come?”

Jon considers this a moment. “Aye I believe so. They are eager for you to take what is rightfully yours, Your Grace. As are those houses who remain loyal to your cause. But it will take some time for the support to truly build with the isolation we have developed to protect you and your family.”

Maegor nodded and said. “I thank you for that, and I doubt that I would be allowed to compete without risk to my own person or that of my family’s regardless of what Blackfyre says.”

Jon nods and then turns the conversation to other things. “Now then, Lord Grafton how steady is trade coming into the Vale? And how much more time shall we require before our men are ready for war once more?”

Lord Grafton was silent a moment and then said. “Trade comes into the Vale fairly regularly, from Pentos, Braavos and from the other minor free cities. Those cities with ties to the new King do not send ships to our ports but that is fine. We can get their goods from our allies in Braavos. We need not fear.”

Lord Andar then spoke. “I believe it will take another few months before we can fully expect our people to be ready to fight for any cause.”

Jon nods, and then Lord Hunter speaks. “My lord, whilst I do not mean to distract from the main topic of this conversation. I do need to ask, what has become of the outlaw known as the Black Swan? Is she still here or has she left for good?”

Jon was silent, as he pondered how best to respond to this question without giving away too much. “She has left I am sure, my brother Ronnel reports that her party fled from the Vale upon the death of the Stark Lord and made for the Riverlands, where she is like to have joined with these bandits wearing masks.”

Lord Hunter nods and then the meeting comes to an end. Once the other lords have been seen to and have gone back to their respective castles, Jon sits in his solar waiting for a knock on the door which eventually comes when the fire in the hearth is burning low. When a woman wearing a swan mask walks in he smiles slightly and then says. “You managed to complete your mission?”

The woman nods and goes to sit in his lap. “Indeed I did my love. Soon enough Andar Royce will come back to find a little surprise waiting for him. And it is something I doubt he will know what to do with it.”

Jon smiles, leans into kiss the woman and then says. “Good, that man is far too slithery by half. He is loyal but he must be taught his place once more. Now, what of this other black swan who is prowling through the lands. Who is she?”

His love kisses him back and then running her fingers through his hair she says. “A friend of my mother’s, Alysanne Stark. She bears a deep grudge against her house for selling her off like chattel. And she took it out on her nephew.”

Jon nods and asks. “Do you think I shall need to be worried of her?”

“No, she will never pose a threat to me or mine. And besides it’s not like Jeyne is here to cause you trouble anymore. We can be happy now, and have no need for this charade anymore my love.”

Jon smiled. “I know my love. It is so tiring having to keep up appearances, I cared for Jeyne truly I did, but she, she betrayed me in a way I could never forgive.”

“I know Jon, truly I do. But I promise I will never do anything like that. Hells my father has been hoping you would ask for my hand in marriage since we were both little children, and when he died my brother took on that role. It’s quite funny actually.”

Jon laughed then. “I could never imagine Ronald or Artys Arryn ever hoping for anything they did not consider duty bound to hope for. Now take off this mask I want to see you.” And once his love had removed her mask, he felt his breath catch, for Rowena Arryn was a great beauty, with long brown hair and green eyes that he felt he could drown in.

“Aye well father was always ambitious, he was the second son of Lord Donnel Arryn he wanted something he felt he could not get without killing your own father. And well Artys, Artys just wants me to be happy.” Rowena said.

“And will you be happy with me my love?” Jon asks, hating how childish his voice sounds.

Rowena looked at him as if she could not believe he’d just asked that question. “Truly Jon? Of course I will be happy with you, you fool. I have loved you since we were but children. How could I not be happy with you? So long as I am with you, I will always be happy.”

Jon smiled at that kissed her and then said. “Then I shall speak with your brother on the morrow and begin making plans for our wedding.”

 


	29. Night Of The Long Knives

**Sixth Month of 249 A.C. King’s Landing/ the Bloody Gate**

**King Daemon I Blackfyre**

King’s Landing was swelteringly hot, and after months of travelling round the different kingdoms and speaking to his people, Daemon was not truly sure if he was glad to be home or not. The north had been cold, both in its weather and its people the loss of so many men fighting a war that had gained them nothing had irked them and angered them. The three sisters had remained in some form of quarrel with one another but had bent when he had come and gone. The other kingdoms seemed fine, Jason Lannister was dead Daemon had sent him off to the wall where he would remain to the end of his days, Tytos Lannister’s children were sent to Casterly Rock and Castamere, their father told one bad word and he and they would all be dead.

Now there was the Vale left, but before that a council meeting. “Your Grace it is as always a pleasure to see you so well and fighting fit. After such a long travel as you last engaged on I must confess some surprise to seeing attending today.” The master of whispers Lord Reynard Reyne said.

Daemon looked at him and then merely responded. “I do not shirk my duties. No matter how tired I am. Now tell me what has been going on in my absence?”

Lord Lyonel his hand seemed to have aged much since last Daemon saw him. “There has been some minor disturbance within the Kingswood. Bandits calling themselves the eight came together and began taking from nobles. They have since been dealt with and their leader hung and quartered as a warning to others who would seek to copy his example. Then there are delegates from the Free Cities who have asked for a lifting on the embargo on the Vale. I was not sure what to say to them and as such I asked for them to wait for this meeting to end.”

Daemon sighs. “Soon enough they will know the benefit of believing in me. But that is neither here nor there. Reynard have you found where Daenerys Martell was hidden?”

The man is silent for a long moment and then he says. “She was hidden nowhere my king. But at Starfall where her daughter now resides. It is where none thought to look not even Qoren himself knew where to look.”

Daemon snorts and says. “Of course, now is when he decides she is in Starfall. Before she could have been with the Wyls or any of those godsforsaken places in that snakes nest. But no matter she is not important now. Will they continue their idiotic raiding of the Reach and Stormlands?”

Lyonel shakes his head. “No Your Grace. Prince Qoren has agreed to stop. He has asked for no terms only that Dorne be left alone and that they will not rise for Maegor Targaryen should the boy ever rebel for the throne.”

Lord Reynard speaks then. “I am glad that Prince Maegor has been brought up Your Grace. For my sources in the Vale have so much information that could be of use to you at this current juncture.”

Daemon looks at the man and says. “And what are these pieces of information?”

“Jon Arryn has wed his cousin Rowena Arryn. Andar Royce is dead, and the Arryn banners are mustering at Gulltown and Runestone as well as at the Gates of the Moon. It does seem as though the Arryns are finally preparing for war.” Reynard says.

At this Daemon perks up and asks. “How did Andar Royce die?” the man was a valuable spy.

“It seems poison was the cause and that a mysterious woman known only as the black swan was the reason for it. This woman has been causing trouble in the Vale and the north for some time. Though since Royce’s death she has since disappeared and no one has been able to find her.” Reynard responds.

Daemon nods then. “It is clear who it was who ordered the death. Jon Arryn is far too clever by half. I should have had him killed when I had the chance. His wife more than likely knows this black swan woman after all was it not an Arryn or a Royce who was the last person to kill this way? Regardless, Andar Royce is dead but his children and grandchildren are young and will need guidance. Your man is ready I trust?” Lord Reynard nods and then Daemon says. “Well then tell him to prepare for the night.”

There is silence for a moment and then Lord Lyonel asks. “What will you do about Prince Maegor and the Valemen Your Grace? Will you call the lords to arms and march on the Vale?”

Daemon shakes his head. “No that is what they want for me to do. That is why their host is divided into three, confusion and chaos. I will not even sail to Gulltown which is where Maegor will be now. I will send a raven to Jon Arryn saying I wish to meet, to discuss surrender. I will not specify whose surrender but he will think I mean mine. We shall meet at the Bloody Gate and from there we shall end this threat once and for all.”

“How so?  No one has ever gotten to the Bloody Gate and survived with an armed host at their backs.” Lord Bar Emmon says.

“I will not be going with an armed host at my back. I am not a fool and neither is Jon Arryn. He will know to bring only a few select men with him to this. His most trusted lords will come and my most trusted lords will come and will dine and eat and at the end this conflict will be over and done with.” Daemon says.

“How will you achieve that Your Grace?” Lord Redwyne asks.

“With a night of long knives.” Is daemon’s curt reply.

With that the council meeting comes to a close and plans are made, plots are put into action, Daemon says goodbye to his wife and children two of whom are married now, and departs for the Vale of Arryn with only a company of seven men. They receive the blessings of the High Septon in the Sept of Baelor first before moving onward. When they finally get to the foot of the mountains of the moon Lord Reynard rides up to him and says. “Ser Davos will be here to guide us in.” sure enough Ser Davos comes, a bastard born from a some dalliance or the other, he is a good man strong and tall and proud, and angry with Jon Arryn for some slight or the other. They talk for the journey and then when they get to the Bloody Gate Ser Davos bids them farewell and rides off.

There standing looking imposing is Jon Arryn. Behind him are his own men whom he has deemed trustworthy. “Daemon Blackfyre, so nice to finally see you not in the heat of battle. To what do we owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

“It is time we end these hostilities Jon.” Daemon says his voice loud and clear and strong. “It is clear neither of us will bend to the other’s will. I am willing to allow Maegor Targaryen to remain alive as King of the Vale if he so wishes, or to go across the sea and serve and try and become king of a new Valyria. In return I shall leave you and yours alone.”

“And what would you have from me personally Daemon? There are many things that we could discuss here. I wish to know which of them the one you wish to talk about is.” Jon Arryn asks.

Daemon is silent for a long moment and then says. “We shall need a hostage. Your first born son from your new marriage shall be a ward of the crown for good behaviour either way. And once he turns fourteen he may return.”

There is silence for a moment as Jon Arryn considers this and then he asks. “The High Septon has agreed to this and seen to its legitimacy? As have your council?”

“They all have there is no flaw in this term that I offer you. Take it and avoid more bloodshed which will be on you and a war you will never win.” Daemon says.

The young man gods how it feels odd to refer to someone else as a young man thinks for a minute and then nods. “Very well then I agree. I shall give the terms over to Prince Maegor at the Gates tonight and let him decide. You are welcome to join us there for some feasting as well. I know the journey has been long and tiring.”

“That would be most welcome.” Daemon says and then they ride on through and that night Prince Maegor reads the terms and himself agrees to them. There is much drinking and celebrating going on, Daemon watches it all intently, his hand resting on the sword by his side, his men doing the same. There are only some twenty men here who are theirs, Reynard assures him more will be coming through the doors when the signal is given.

Merriment continues throughout the whole night, and as Daemon watches Prince Maegor drunkenly fumbling with some woman’s blouse and Jon Arryn doing the same he wonders, is this truly what it is all about? These men stood by for two oafish louts getting drunk off of their own sense of victory? Truly it is a strange thing, he is glad that it will be over soon. As night gets later and later, and their hosts get more and more drunk, he slowly unsheathes Blackfyre and at that the music continues but grows softer and then the carnage begins.

Daemon and his men begin the culling of the Vale lords plunging their daggers and swords and other weapons into the men who are too drunk to fight back. Their screams echo throughout the halls and on and on and on and on and on it goes. Plunging, and stabbing, cutting through, blood spatters all over the floors and such Daemon lops off Jon Arryn’s head and kills whom he later finds is the man’s wife the chopping and culling continues and gods this is too easy.

Brutal efficiency sees most of the Vale Lords dead and gone by the time he comes face to face with Maegor Targaryen, the boy is sober his eyes wide. “Why, why are you doing this? We agreed to a peace.”

“Peace,” Daemon snorts. “If you truly thought there could be peace whilst we both lived then you are a bigger fool than I first thought.” He does not risk speaking for much longer instead he buries his sword into the man’s throat and then pulls out and watches as blood comes pouring out. Ser Glen and Ser Denys come up to him and he growls. “Find the children.” And then he finds Maegor’s wife and says. “You are coming with me my dear.”

In the morning Daemon is sat atop the throne where Arryns of old used to sit, bodies lie piled in the hall, and the stink of blood is strong. “What is the status report of this whole night?” he asks.

Reynard comes forward then and says. “All those who needed to die are dead Your Grace. Prince Maegor and his children are dead. His wife remains in prison. Lords Royce, Belmore, Hunter and Templeton remain alive. And have confessed to their own loyalty to you Your Grace. Just as you said they would.”

Daemon nods and then stands up, “This war is over. The Targaryens are all dead. There will be no more war in my kingdom now. Bend the knee and we shall all move on. Let there be peace at last.”

Those gathered in the hall begin shouting his name calling it screaming it. He turns to his friend and says. “Send word, let the whole kingdom know that the Arryns and their friend the pretender is dead.” With that the walks down the steps and out of the hall and back to his wife and children.


End file.
